


Coffee Shop

by leonheart2012



Category: Spider-Man: Homecoming (2017)
Genre: Angst, Assault, Attempted Rape/Non-Con, Breaking and Entering, Eating Disorders, Hurt Peter, I'm so sorry, Mentions of Suicide, Mentions of self-harm, Natasha's a good mom, Peter's Fifteen, Protective Tony, Tony doing illegal things, non-consentual kissing, tony's a good dad, unrealistic depictions of police officers
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-12-11
Updated: 2019-01-14
Packaged: 2019-09-16 04:46:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con, Underage
Chapters: 9
Words: 25,679
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16947264
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leonheart2012/pseuds/leonheart2012
Summary: (Set just after Spider-Man Homecoming, after the school holidays that would have happened. New school year, basically.)Since word's gotten around that Peter's lost the Stark internship, he needed a new cover job. Tony found him something in a cafe nearby, but Peter's hating the work. It could be the monotonous nature of it, or the awful customers, or it could have something to do with his weird boss...





	1. Chapter 1

Peter gazed out the window, both wishing for and dreading the bell. Ever since word had gotten out that he’d lost the Stark internship, he had had to get another job to cover up why he was out all the time. Said job was working as a barista in a coffee shop, and he hated it.

The manager was always on his case about everything, including making ‘happy’ latte art, whatever that was, and the customers always grumbled that he took too long. He’d only been working there three weeks, and already he hated it more than his English class, and that was saying something.

Inevitably, the clock ticked down the seconds until -

“Okay, guys, don’t forget to do your homework. I know it’s not fun, but it’s only three paragraphs!” The teacher called, and there was a collective groan as the students around him packed their things into their bags.

Peter sheepishly made his way to the front. “Sorry, I...I wasn’t paying attention when you set the homework.” He admitted. “What was it again?”

He took out a pen and wrote on his arm what he was supposed to be doing, making a mental note to transfer it to paper and wash it off his arm before going into work. Sighing, he thanked the teacher and made his way to his locker.

 

It was a ten minute bike ride to the coffee shop where he worked, but it always felt too short. Dread curled in his stomach, weighing down on him like a stone. He swallowed heavily, as if that would wash it away.

He sneaked his way past the manager, Andy, and into the bathrooms, where he spent close to ten minutes making sure everything was perfect. Andy hated his employees coming to work in their casual gear, preferring them to look ‘sharp’ from the second they walked in to the second they left.

Peter smoothed his hair down with water, gave himself a final once-over, nodded, and left to start his shift.

Immediately, Andy pounced on him.

“Three minutes late.” He admonished swiftly, his voice cutting through the low chatter like a knife. No one turned to look anymore; it was such a regular occurrence that everyone had just learned to deal with it.

 _They’re all snobs anyway, wouldn’t do anything if a volcano exploded in their faces._ Peter thought bitterly, mumbling an apology.

“You’re shirt’s not tucked in properly.” Was the next verbal attack, and Andy stepped into his space to fix it, even though Peter could have sworn it had been perfect just seconds earlier. “Collar’s not straight.” He said, his breath rolling hotly into Peter’s face.

_Thank god he brushes his teeth five times a day._

Andy stood back and huffed, apparently now pleased with Peter’s appearance. His eyes narrowed, as if seeing some offending imperfection, but he turned around and left, shutting the door to the back room with a small ‘whumph’.

Peter sighed and walked over to the coffee machine, making an effort to keep his back straight; he had no desire to repeat that particular lesson with Andy. A new order slid over to his side of the bench, and he pressed the button for a shot of decaf without even looking. No one ordered real coffee here.

It was an endless cycle, from start to finish; order, button, tamp, handle in head, cup, button, milk, steam on, steam off, pour, lid, have a nice day and then...order, button…

 

By the end of his shift, Peter was exhausted, but he couldn’t just leave. Oh, no, his boss required that he clean the station, which he never permitted until the last customer had left, which was always at least fifteen minutes after closing time.

There was one woman who was sitting in a corner booth today, holding her coffee like someone was going to steal it from her, looking pleadingly at any employee who came close. Peter sighed and walked over.

“Ma’am,” he started patiently, “I’m sorry, but the shop’s closing soon.” Andy would be upset with him if he knew Peter was doing this. They were never supposed to shoo customers out, even if they were well past five thirty.

The woman curled further into the corner, and Peter frowned sympathetically.

“Do you have a place to stay tonight?” He asked gently, lowering his voice.

She blinked up at him, startled, like a deer caught in headlights. Almost imperceptibly, she shook her head. Looking to make sure that Andy wasn’t around, Peter reached into his pocket and pulled out forty dollars. “There’s a place just down the road from here.” He said, sliding the money across the table. “One night is twenty dollars, so this’ll buy you two, or one plus some groceries.”

The woman looked completely startled, but took the money and stood, sliding out from behind the booth before taking off out the shop.

Peter blinked in her wake, but shrugged. She hadn’t looked too far into homelessness; her hair was still pretty clean, and she didn’t smell too bad, but she had that perpetually afraid look that one just couldn’t fake. His heart sank as he continued packing things away. He hoped she’d be alright.

 

“Hey Happy,” Peter said sleepily as he pedalled home, the hood of his jacket pulled up over his head in an effort to protect his ears from the biting cold. “I had a shift, so I didn’t get to do much ‘hero-ing’ but I did help a woman who was homeless. Gave her forty dollars so she could find a place to stay.” He swallowed a lump in his throat. Damn, but that job was making him depressed. “I was just wondering, would it be alright if I found a new job? You wouldn’t have to do anything, I’d just hand out my resume...well, I would, if I had one...you know what? Forget it. I’m sure there’s some reason Mr. Stark wanted me here.” He sighed. “Well, goodnight.”

He hung up the phone and walked his bike up to the rack just outside the apartment building before walking up to the seventh floor.

“Hey honey.” Aunt May called from the kitchen. “How was work?”

Peter slumped into the kitchen and wrapped her in a tight hug, resting his head on her shoulder.

“That bad, huh?” She asked soothingly, resting her hand on the back of his neck. It was like some magic touch, and he melted into her, breathing her lovely, earthy scent. “School any better?”

“No. I mean, I’m still at the top of most of my classes, but...this job is just draining the life out of me.”

May frowned sympathetically, and Peter was reminded of the woman. He hoped she’d found a place to stay okay. “You know I didn’t approve of that internship, but you really seemed to like it. I’m sorry it didn’t work out.”

Peter nodded, then looked over her shoulder. He laughed softly. “And what was that poor thing supposed to be?”

She winced. “A pie.” Turning around, she sighed at the burnt mess of pastry. “I just wish I could cook better. This drain of resources is not cheap.”

“Well, why don’t you let me cook?” Peter offered, despite wanting nothing more than to curl up in bed and forget all about everything until tomorrow.

“But you already work so hard.” May protested, but she looked like she was ready to give up, and so Peter smiled at her and led her to the couch, sitting her down and pushing the remote into her hand. “Petey...”

“Don’t worry about it.” He said, crying inside. “I’ve got it.”

“I can just order pizza...”

And Peter was tempted. For a long moment, he wanted to agree to have a takeout dinner for the fifth time in a row, sit down, do his homework and stuff three pieces of pizza into his face before falling asleep on the couch, just like he had every day this week. With great effort, Peter shook his head and swallowed that lump that threatened to overwhelm him.

“It’s okay. I’ll have something whipped up in no time.”

 

Half an hour later, Peter was falling asleep as he watched the pasta boil in the pot. May swung around the corner.

“Hey.” She said gently, prodding him with her finger. “How’s it going?”

“’L’mst...done...” Peter mumbled, the cool door of the pantry feeling so good against his face…

May’s hand shook him awake, and he started.

“Wh-”

“Go get your homework done. I can make pasta.”

Peter raised his eyebrow, and she slapped him playfully. He laughed lightly, leaving the kitchen and hauling his bag onto the table.

Homework wasn’t the thing he wanted to be thinking about right then, but he grudgingly opened his backpack and dragged out his advanced mathematics books first, gazing blankly at the equations on the page as they swam in his vision, snippets of what he’d been taught swirling in his brain, making him dizzy.

“I think I’m just gonna call Ned over to help me with this.” He announced to the kitchen door, before fishing his phone from his pocket and calling his best friend.

“Hey, what’s up, man?” Ned asked, sounding pretty tired himself.

“I need some help with my homework. I’m just so tired with work that I haven’t really been...paying attention...”

Ned sighed and shifted, his bed creaking audibly through the phone. “Alright, I’ll be there soon.”

“Thanks.” He hung up and looked back at his book, rubbing his eyes in the hopes that that would help. It didn’t.

Sighing, he switched tasks, going to his English homework. It was much easier than calculus, so he breezed through it, despite hating every second of it. With that out of the way, he brought his maths book back in front of him.

“Nope, still doesn’t make any sense.” He muttered, swallowing that pesky lump yet again. He would not cry over homework. He absolutely refused. Even more embarrassing, though, would be crying over his stupid part-time job.

He could handle unrealistic expectations, awful working hours and a strange boss. He could handle monotonous work, ungrateful customers and weird homeless ladies who refused to leave. He could handle coming home exhausted after being held back at work for almost a whole hour. He could, couldn’t he?

Taking a deep breath, he sat back and shoved the mathematics book to the side, desperately grasping at his Spanish homework, hoping that it would provide some relief.

The doorbell rang, and Peter gasped, feeling a weight being lifted from his shoulders. Ned would make it better.

He opened the door and the sight of his best friend’s face did, indeed, make him feel better, even if his immediate questions about Spider-Man and maths made his heart sink and his intestines coil uncomfortably.

May poked her head around the corner and smiled at them. “Oh, hi Ned.” She turned big, almost frightened eyes to Peter, and his stomach coiled even tighter. “I...I think the pasta’s done...”

Peter closed his eyes. “It boiled dry, didn’t it?”

“Sorry, I thought...but that’s rice, isn’t it? God, I’m so sorry, Peter. I just-”

“Don’t worry about it.” Peter shushed her, sitting her down again. “I’ll just call up the Chinese place. They’re open late.” He turned to Ned. “You want anything?”

“Nah, I’m alright, dude.” He said, looking at the books scattered over the table. Pulling one closer, he frowned, picked up Peter’s pencil, scribbled something, then looked up sheepishly. “Sorry. Just can’t help it. Have you been paying attention at all? We covered this last week.”

Peter sighed, dragging Ned into his room. “I’m dying here, man. I feel like I’m not even here, I’m so tired. It doesn’t make any sense. I was never this tired when I was just doing ‘the internship’.” He rested his head against the wall. “I feel like I’m going crazy, but something’s just like...” he gestured vaguely, “tingling, at the base of my spine or something. Like something’s not right.” He bumped his head against the wall a few times.

Gentle snoring came from the direction of his bunk bed, and Peter sighed, again feeling that lump rise in his throat. He felt just completely powerless, and it weighed on him like a ton of bricks. Lucky for him, he already knew he could lift a literal ton of bricks off of himself...so why was he having so much trouble with a metaphorical one?

 

School the next day was almost torture. He’d barely gotten any sleep, and he had yet another shift after school. Unable to keep his eyes open, he’d fallen asleep during study period, not waking up until well into fifth, barely making it to sixth before the bell rang.

He was immediately sent to the principal’s office, where he was given another stern talking to about attending class, and Peter had to swallow down that lump, again and again, resolving not to cry. Crying wouldn’t help anybody, and certainly not himself.

Apologising profusely, he promised to do better, grabbing his bag and trudging his way to class, dreading the forty-five minutes he had before the next round of torture started.

Calculus was swimming around his head as he left the classroom again, making him mess up his combination several times. He groaned softly on the fourth time, knowing that he was going to be late again, dreading the speech he was probably going to get from Andy about his tardiness. Suppressing a sob, he opened his locker, dragging his uniform out and making his way out to the bike rack.

“Late!” Andy yelled from outside the store, dragging him into the back room. He shoved him into a chair and glared at him. “You know I hate it when you come to work dressed like that. You’ve been late three times this week, and I notice you sneaking past me in these ‘street clothes’ so you can change. This is unacceptable, Peter.”

“I have school.” Peter protested weakly, but immediately regretted it when Andy’s heated gaze swept back to him. He shrank in his chair, scolding himself. _I’m Spider-Man. I can take this guy, no sweat. So why does he make me feel like this?_

“Of course. You have school.” Andy growled, sitting on the edge of his desk. “You still have a responsibility to me! And I say that you come here on time in uniform. I don’t care what you have to do. Just make it happen.” He folded his arms. “Now get changed.”

Peter stood and went to leave the room, but Andy caught his arm. “Get changed here. You’re going to do it in under five minutes, and the clock’s already ticking.”

Confused, upset and uncomfortable, Peter did as he was told, fumbling with the zipper on his backpack and pulling out his uniform.

“Tsk.” Andy tutted. “Not folding your uniform.”

Peter had hoped that Andy would stay silent, so he could forget the older man was there, but it was clear now that that wasn’t going to happen. Hastily, he pulled off his shirt and slipped the uniform over his shoulders, buttoning it up as quickly as he could with violently shaking fingers.

Next were his trousers. Exhaling deeply, he shoved them down and almost fell over in his haste to get the uniform on. Once they were finally snug around his hips, he tucked his shirt in and turned around, knowing it wouldn’t be satisfactory, but he just wanted this to be over.

“Humph.” Andy grunted, looking him over. He stepped in closer, pulling at his collar, smoothing down the shirt and tucking it in with rough, strong hands. “There now. Stand up straight.” His hands manipulated Peter so he was standing straight. “Alright. Now, get out there and don’t be late again.”

Stomach sinking, Peter packed his clothes into his bag and walked out, again trying to keep the posture Andy had forced on him, and began the endless cycle. Order, button, tamp, handle in head, cup, button…

 

The two hours of his shift dragged by, finally coming to a halt when all the customers had left. He was grateful that they’d all scattered at a reasonable time today, but he supposed he had the fact that it was Friday to thank for that. He helped one of his coworkers, Zoe, to clean and pack away the tables and chairs, then cleaned the coffee machine while she counted out the till. It took them only half an hour, and they parted ways with a small wave.

On the way home, the only thing Peter could think about was the way Andy had had him strip in front of him, the way he’d commented on every little thing he’d been doing wrong, the way he’d stepped into his space, smoothed his hands down Peter’s front - Peter shivered, trying to wrench his thoughts away from the action, but his mind betrayed him, slipping back and back and back to that strong, even pressure, running down his front, starting high, at his collar, and working down, over his breasts, to his stomach and finally, his hips.

Surely there was something wrong with that? Surely he wasn’t supposed to do that? Tony had never touched him like that. But he’d barely ever seen Tony. And there was that one time, in his car, where he’d reached over him...Peter’s heart sped up. Had there been some ulterior motive to that, too? Had he just wanted to get close so he could -

“No!” Peter screamed, jumping off his bike and throwing it into the nearest building, scaring a stray cat.

The sound of his phone ringing made him jump. He checked who it was before answering, like he always did.

‘Tony’ the phone announced. Breathing heavily, Peter watched as it rang out. Two times, three times, four times, five times...and silence. With shaking fingers, he put his phone back into his pocket and picked up his bike, making his way home, hoping that he could have just a nice, sleepy night in before he had to think about homework or his stupid boss.

As he curled up into bed, his phone rang again, still displaying the name ‘Tony’. He let it ring out again, his heart pounding so fast in his ears he thought he was going to die. Squeezing his eyes shut, he vowed, yet again, not to cry.

He fell asleep with the mantra at the front of his thoughts. _I will not cry, I will not cry, I will not…_

 

Tony frowned at his phone. There was no way he’d missed Peter twice. So he was avoiding him.

The tracker in the suit said he hadn’t put it on, or even touched it, for the past six days, and that worried Tony more than anything else. He wondered if there was something he’d done wrong.

He’d gotten Peter this job, which, true, he didn’t seem to be enjoying, but a job was a job. How bad could it be?

Sighing, he poured himself another finger of whisky, looking out his window. Pepper came to stand by his side, wrapping her arms around him.

“You okay?”

“Just worried about the kid. He won’t answer my calls.”

Pepper shrugged. “He is in high school. With a job. Maybe he’s just busy. Don’t take it too personally.” She kissed his cheek. “Come to bed. I’ve got something more fun in mind.”

Putting down his now-empty glass, Tony smiled. “I like the sound of that.”


	2. Chapter 2

Peter’s alarm clock blared, and he cracked an eye open, groaning when he realised he’d forgotten to turn it off.

 _Saturday._ He thought with a hint of bitterness.

He didn’t have a shift today, so he could do whatever he wanted. Part of him wanted to don the suit and leap around town, free as a bird, helping people in need, but even thinking about the suit brought back memories of Tony, which made him think about Andy, and his hands, trailing down his front, lingering on his hips just a little longer than necessary, the look in his eyes -

_No, I’m imagining that. He’d looked angry, not...lustful, or whatever. He’s not a rapist, just weird. Just weird._

He thought if he told himself enough times, he actually believe it.

 

Aunt May was already out for work, so he did as much homework as he could stomach before turning on the PlayStation and stabbing at the buttons. It wasn’t making him feel any better, though, so he put it aside and rubbed his face with his hands.

He knew he’d have to call Tony back, or at the very least pick up one of his calls at some point, but -

His phone rang, and he startled, forgetting to check who it was before he picked up.

Andy’s smooth voice was on the other end. “Hey, Zoe’s called in sick. You can do till work, right, Peter?”

“I...yes...” He answered warily, not sure he wanted to agree to an extra shift. Although, they were struggling to put food on the table as it was, even with May’s job and Tony’s small contributions. She never told him, but he knew that she budgeted very carefully around what they could and couldn’t afford, so they still had a place to live. “I’ll be in soon.”

“Twenty minutes, Peter. That’s when she would have started. And remember, not a second late, in uniform.”

Peter looked over at the closet that held his suit. May had seen it, yes, but he’d explained it off as Ned’s birthday present to him, that it wasn’t actually Spider-Man’s suit, but that Ned had made it. Thankfully, she’d bought it, so he hadn’t needed to burn it. Sighing, he put the suit on and swung out of his window, putting his backpack on over the top.

He was standing outside the cafe just ten minutes later, in his uniform, having stopped in a nearby alley to change. Andy was standing outside. He grunted at the sight of him.

“See, you can be on time when you want to be.”

 _But I don’t want to be._ Peter thought bitterly. He followed Andy into the store and endured him standing over his shoulder, making sure he pushed all the right buttons in a quick enough manner, before he slipped back into his office.

The rest of the shift was just as monotonous as making the coffee, but instead of the usual routine, this time it was; greeting, what can I get for you, decaf button, size button, soy milk button, cappuccino, latte or flat white button, finish order, slide the docket across the desk to the barista, have a nice day.

There was no variation. No cakes they had to offer, no milkshakes or smoothies. Just decaf coffee with soy or almond milk in some shitty hipster setting, complete with naked light bulbs and wooden seats.

By the end of the shift, he was just about ready to beat his head into the wall in frustration. He counted out the till after he and Timothy, the barista of the shift, had packed up, and was amazed at just how much money they made from selling classy women hot, bitter sludge. Peter had never understood regular coffee, let alone decaf.

Sighing, he changed and shut up, Andy having already left a few hours earlier. He checked his phone before changing, and was glad he did. Two missed calls from May, and five from Tony. He hesitated slightly before ignoring the ones from Tony.

“Hey, sorry.” He said as soon as May picked up, hysteria barely veiled in her answer. “I got an extra shift. I’m sorry I didn’t leave a note. I didn’t even think about it.”

She forgave him, but begged him to be home soon, because she had burned another attempt at cooking, and the smoke alarm had gone off, so the fire department were on their way, for the fourth time that month.

Peter sighed after hanging up, putting his suit on, swinging his way closer and closer to -

“Hey, Pete.” Tony’s voice almost made him drop out of the sky. “You haven’t put this on in a while.”

“Well, yeah, I’ve been kind of busy with work. Is anything up?” He tried desperately to sound cheerful, but feared that he didn’t quite make it.

“Nah, just wanted to check in. Happy said you weren’t liking your job.”

Peter winced. “No. Just really boring.”

“Well, you have my permission to quit, Peter. Not that you really needed it in the first place. You’re a good kid. You’ll find something else soon. Something better.”

“Thanks, Tony.” Strangely, the permission lifted a weight off his shoulders. He’d wanted so badly to quit, but had thought that he couldn’t, because Tony had found the work for him, because he hadn’t said it was okay.

“So, what made you put it on again?” Tony asked, like he didn’t want to hang up, and Peter felt his heart squeeze in fear.

“May called. We have a fire at home. Well, not a fire. Just a lot of smoke. She’s not so good at cooking. So I’ve gotta go.”

“O...okay, b-”

Peter hung up on him, but misjudged a landing onto a rooftop, so he sprawled across the concrete, chest heaving.

_He doesn’t mean you any harm. He’s not gonna hurt you. He’s saved you more than once. Come on, get it together, man. Nothing’s wrong._

Getting up, he forced himself to keep going. May needed him to be at their apartment when-

“Whoa. That’s a lot of smoke.” Peter breathed, staring for a moment at their apartment building. Shaking off his shock, he got down onto the ground and hastily changed into his work uniform.

He ran out of the alleyway, backpack in hand, and straight to his aunt. “What happened?” He panted, looking up at her with wide eyes. “It looks like the whole apartment was on fire. No wonder the fire department are coming.” He looked her over. She had a few soot stains, but looked otherwise unharmed. “Are you okay?”

May swallowed. “Yeah. I’m sorry for making you worry. I was just...I should just stop trying.” She said shakily, looking on the verge of tears. “I should just accept that I can’t cook.”

“Don’t worry.” Peter soothed, desperately trying to find a solution. “Why don’t we...on Sundays, I’ll stay home and teach you how to cook, and we’ll make a bunch of stuff we can freeze to eat for the week?”

“Oh, Peter.” She breathed, pulling him into a hug. “You’re so special. Thank you.”

The firemen weren’t too long behind Peter, pulling up with their sirens blaring. They piled out of their wagon and sprayed water over the building, going up and into the apartment.

“Who lives in apartment seven-two-four?” A fireman called over the crowd, and Peter stepped forward with his aunt.

“We do. We’re so sorry about this-”

The fireman shushed him. “Look, kid. Next time you cook, maybe do it with parental supervision.” Neither of them corrected him. “We’re just glad no one was hurt.” He looked down at the device in his hand. “It seems you haven’t learnt your lesson from last time...well, nothing much we can do, but next time, we call the police, alright?" He looked over Peter's head at May, and he bristled just a little bit. "I need to talk to your mom for a sec.” He said, shooing him off.

Peter took a step away, but he could still hear most of what the fireman said.

“Most of the time, when a kid sets fires like this this often, it’s a bad sign. If you’re worried, you should call the police.” His aunt didn’t correct him on any count, and Peter was both grateful and disappointed. He didn’t want the firemen, especially the cute one who constantly looked her over, to think she was a bad cook, but he secretly hoped she would take charge and apologise instead of relying on him to do it on her behalf. But, explaining would take a long time, and the less time he had to spend in the cold night air, the better.

 

Luckily, the firemen quickly cleared the apartment building as safe and let everyone back into their rooms with the promise that the smell of smoke wouldn’t last too long.

May kept apologising the whole way up to their apartment – not only to Peter, but to their neighbours. Apologising for the smell, the inconvenience, everything.

Peter closed the door and fell against it. “Peter I’m-”

“I’m quitting my job.” He interrupted her, not wanting to hear her apologise yet again. “I just can’t do it anymore. I’m sorry. I know we’re struggling, but I’ll still have another couple of shifts before my employment terminates.”

May breathed out heavily. “Well, it didn’t seem to be making you happy, so I’m okay with it.”

“Really?” Peter said, surprised.

“Of course.” She reached out and stroked his cheek. “I only want what’s best for you.”

He wrapped her in an exhausted hug, pulling her against him as he supported both their weights with the door. After a minute, he let her go. “Alright, let’s do something about this smell.”

 

He woke to the strange scent of vanilla and smoke. Disoriented in his half-asleep state, he stumbled upright and into the kitchen before he remembered what had happened the night previous. May was in the living room, doing her weird yoga stuff, following along with the DVD’s instructor as she did downward dog, then ‘squeeze your glutes as we come down into crocodile, and push on through into upward dog’.

She winked at him when she saw him standing in the doorway, unfolding herself and turning the TV off. “Hope I didn’t wake you.” She said. “You looked really tired.”

“I was, but you didn’t wake me. The smell did.”

Laughing sheepishly, she kissed his cheek good morning. “We have to go shopping, but I think we’ll give your idea a go. Heaven knows we need a solution to our food problem, and it can’t just be ‘junk food every night’.”

Peter agreed wholeheartedly with that. He needed to keep in shape if he was going to continue being your ‘friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man’.

 

Five hours later, Peter and May lay on the couch, utterly exhausted, plates of pasta resting on their stomachs as they shovelled it in, watching some random show on Netflix. It wasn’t even a good show, but they didn’t care. Neither of them could be bothered to change it anyway.

May muted the television with the remote and looked over at Peter. “So, how are you going to quit your job?”

“I...there’s more than one way to do it?” He asked, bemused, but also not really wanting to think about it.

“Of course.” May said with a shrug. “But I’d ask for a reference. So do it in the best way you can. Don’t make him angry, just say you’re too busy with school.” She placed her hand on his arm. “And don’t worry about getting another job, honey. We’ll figure it out.”

Peter nodded, but he knew he’d be out there looking for more work as soon as he was able. No way was he going to let his aunt shoulder everything on her own.

She looked down at her plate and sighed happily. “How did you get so good at cooking, Peter?”

“Mum taught me.” He said quietly, knowing that May had many fond memories of her, and that bringing her up hurt them both.

May stroked his cheek idly. “I’m sorry you’ve been surrounded by so much death, honey. You know I wish I could bring them all back for you.”

“Yeah.” Peter said quietly. He sat up and took their dishes into the kitchen. “Would it be alright if I called Ned over? I still have no idea what this maths stuff is going on about.”

 

Just twenty minutes later, Ned was sitting on Peter’s bed, pointing to different things on the papers spread out before them, explaining advanced mathematics to him.

He nodded along with the instructions, scribbling things down occasionally.

When they were finally finished, he sat back with a sigh. “Thanks, Ned. I have no idea what I would do without you.” It was a long time before he brought up his job.

“What? You’re really quitting?” Ned asked, surprised.

“I have to.” Peter replied with a shrug. “I can’t keep doing my job and my homework. I have to choose, and I definitely choose school over that stupid job.”

“So are you gonna...write a letter of resignation or something?”

Peter sighed, rolling over onto his stomach. “I don’t know. I was thinking of just going in and telling him to his face. Nice and easy, right?” He didn’t add that the thought of doing so made him so sick with nerves he felt nauseous. “Did you want to play some games or something? I just learned how to play something called five hundred.”

“Yeah, alright.” Ned said, and Peter pulled out a deck of cards, sorting out the ones they didn’t need. “How do you play?”

“Well, there’s forty three cards in play, right from ace to red fours, you take out everything under that. I don’t have a joker though, so we have to use a two or something for that. Then, you...”

The night wore on as Peter explained the rules, dealing hand after hand until Ned finally got it.

“Alright, boys.” May said, poking her head around the corner. “Ned can stay, but you’ve gotta go to bed, alright? You’ve got school in the morning.”

They grumbled, but did as they were told, laughing and joking and Peter, for the first time in about two weeks, felt like everything was going to be okay.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Announcer Voice: It was not all going to be okay.
> 
> I hope you all enjoyed that. Won't be too long before the next chapter :)  
> Hope you're all having a wonderful day  
> P.S. I did some research and, yes, I know that Peter's parents died when he was four, but I'm making it so that they died when he was, like, six, so that his mother had the time to teach him how to make cupcakes and pasta and stuff like that.


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is a non-consentual kissing scene in this chapter, and an attempt at raping Peter, so just be warned. Thanks, hope you all enjoy it anyway :)

It was another two days before Peter gathered up the courage to quit. Luckily, he hadn't had any shifts in that time, so he hadn't had to endure any more lectures about his uniform not being perfect, or him not being on time. Peter was grateful for that; he would have lost his nerve entirely if Andy had had the opportunity to put his hands on him again. So, now he stood, trying to get a grip, outside the small room at the back of the cafe.

Breathing in shakily, Peter stepped into Andy’s office. It had never felt claustrophobic before, despite its small size, but Peter was definitely feeling it today. He was in fight-or-flight mode, and was leaning more towards the flight. No part of him wanted to be there, standing in the cramped place as he waited for Andy to notice his presence. He’d learned that interrupting Andy was a bad thing to do, so he stood quietly, doing his best to keep his back straight.

Peter took the time to survey the office, just as he’d done when he’d been called in for an interview exactly twenty-five days earlier. Things hadn’t changed much since then. There was Andy’s desk, squeezed into the small space with barely enough room to move around it. Andy’s lithe form managed it with ease, however. The way he slinked around it reminded Peter of a wild cat. Andy’s chair was made of comfortable leather, fitted perfectly to his form. It was always spotless, just as his desk was.

Finally, there was the other chair, which Peter was not permitted to sit in unless invited.

Andy’s gaze rose slowly, but he smiled brightly when he saw Peter standing in front of him, as if he’d been expecting someone else, but Peter’s presence was a pleasant surprise.

“Peter.” He said cheerfully, folding his hands on his desk. “What can I do for you?”

Trying to steady his voice, Peter cleared his throat. “I...I’m sorry, but this job is taking up too much of my time. I need to prioritise my schoolwork over this job, so I need to, unfortunately, resign.”

Andy’s face darkened. “You’re quitting?” He growled, the room growing darker despite no change in the lighting.

Heart hammering in his chest, Peter clenched everything, begging himself not to run. “I’m sorry, but I need to focus on my fut-”

“This isn’t good enough for you?” Andy thundered, making Peter flinch. The older man stood suddenly, his chair hitting the wall behind it. He slipped around the desk so he could get into Peter’s face, backing him up until he hit the wall. “Think you’re better than this coffee shop, do you?” He growled in Peter’s face, so close Peter could almost feel his lips moving against his cheek. “Think you’re going to end up the CEO of some multi-million dollar company?”

Peter suppressed the whimper that formed at the back of his throat, fought not to beg and plead, forgetting that he was Spider-Man, with enough strength to take on three fully-grown men, and enough agility to evade fifty attackers. His palms were sweating, his legs shaking.

“Well? Do you?” Andy ground out through his teeth, his hands finding their way to Peter’s sides, pushing at the soft flesh of his abdomen. His face came impossibly closer. “You don’t get to quit, Peter.” He whispered, his breath heating Peter’s face. “You’re mine now.”

His body pressed closer and closer, and Peter fought off the feeling that he was shrinking, the feeling that he was helpless, reminding himself that he had super powers. He was Spider-Man, for goodness’ sake! He could get out of anything. And yet, Andy already had him cornered, pushed up against the wall, breathing heavily in his face, not a single perfect hair out of place.

Peter’s chest heaved with every breath, fighting like a wild animal to stay in control, to stay alive, his heart pounding, pounding in his ears, begging him to remember that he _was_ alive, alive, alive. The reminder was deafening. His eyes misted over, and he was left in a world that didn’t make any sense, one where he was about to be violated by a man who was more than twice his age.

Andy’s lips pressing against his own was enough to snap him back to reality, and he shoved the older man aside, nimbly evading his grasping fingers, racing out of the cafe as quickly as he could, running and running until he’d run out of breath.

Turning into an alleyway, he stopped dead in his tracks, bending over and throwing up, retching hoarsely when his stomach had nothing left to give, his abdomen clenching painfully, trying in vain to expel the poison of the memory. His eyes burned with unshed tears, both from the pain of retching and the injustice of it all. He was only fifteen, not legal yet, and still, Andy had kissed him, had probably lusted after him. The thought of it made him sick, his stomach heaving yet again, and he coughed, bringing up only a thin trail of saliva.

When he’d finally finished retching and coughing, he curled up on the cool concrete and cried, each sob making his stomach and chest clench painfully, but he wasn’t able to stop, the pain only making him sob harder. Even when his eyes had no tears left, he shook soundlessly from the aftershocks of terror and pain. What had almost been left burning imprints on the inside of his eyelids, traumatising him even further. He knew he was never going to recover from this. Even so, he was going to have to move at some point. He needed to get home. So, after a few more indulgent minutes of wallowing in the pain, he dragged himself to his feet, got his bearings, and trudged home. He really could have used a friendly neighbourhood Spider-Man himself.

 

“How did it go?” May asked from the living room, and Peter felt himself let go of everything, falling against the side of the hallway and breaking down yet again.

He felt weak and alone, even when May’s strong arms wrapped around him. He’d resolved not to tell anyone about what had happened. Tony woun't believe him, and besides, he still wasn't sure that the older man didn't want him in the same way Andy had. May would believe him, but what could she do? Ned...Ned din't need to know about this. It would be too painful to talk about, anyway. Even thinking about it brought back the sharp barbs of regret and shame.

“I’m so sorry,” she whispered, despite not knowing what she was apologising for. “Do you want to tell me what happened?”

Peter shook his head mutely, pushing himself up and away from the wall, trudging down the hallway, and slinking into his room, closing the door behind himself. Slowly, he crawled into bed and pulled the blankets up around himself, grabbing one of his pillows and wrapping it in a fierce hug.

Gradually, his sadness and hurt turned to anger. Anger at himself, for not trusting his instincts and getting out of there sooner, for not being able to save himself; anger at Andy for having no qualms about violating Peter despite his age, maybe even because of it; but most of all, anger at Tony, for finding him the job. Realistically, he knew that there was no way Tony could have known what was going to happen, but in his broken down state, he couldn’t help but feel like he’d set this up, like he’d wanted to…

Peter swallowed. It was a dangerous road for his thoughts to go down, but he didn’t stop them.

...Like he’d wanted to groom him so he could snatch him away yet again, have Peter all to himself, keeping him this time.

“You’re mine now.” Andy’s voice whispered from his memories, but then it changed to Tony’s voice. “You’re mine now. You’re mine now. You’re mine now.”

Fighting off waves of panic, Peter hugged the pillow tighter, allowing himself to break down into tears just one last time before he had to pull himself together. Just one last time.

 

“Hey,” Ned said cheerfully as he waddled closer to Peter’s locker. “How’d it go?”

“I am never setting foot within three miles of that place, man. He yelled at me for almost half an hour.” The lie was practiced; he'd wanted to make it look beleivable for his friend, who'd known him since thrid grade. There was no way he could let anyone know. He'd run over every possibility, and if he told someone, anyone, it didn't end well. So he had to lie. It felt awful. He didn't like lying to Ned, or anyone.

His friend’s paw landed on his shoulder. “That’s rough, man. So, since you’re not working anymore, do you want to come over and hang out tonight? Mum’s going to be making a traditional Malaysian dish and she’s really excited about it. You know how she gets with things from home.” Ned sounded pretty excited himself, and Peter didn't blame him; his mother's cooking was to die for.

“Yeah, sure, I’ll come.” Peter said brightly, the prospect of spending time with Ned's family making his mood lighten.

 _A new day, a new me,_ he thought, despite the underlying tiredness that was going to take more than one nights’ rest to erode.

 

The day passed by swiftly enough, and it wasn’t long before Peter was sitting in one of his favourite places in the world; on the couch next to his best friend and his parents. Since they’d learned that Peter had lost his, they’d made an immense effort to make him feel at home when he was with them, to the extent that they were basically second parents, after May and, before he’d died, Ben.

Ned’s mother, Cherish, was babbling about some fashion parade coming up that she was looking forward to while cooking something that smelled absolutely wonderful. She worked as a fashion magazine photographer and editor, so got to go to all the biggest fashion shows around, bringing back tales of fancy dresses and garish colours.

Sebastian, Ned’s dad, was sitting next to them on the couch, halfheartedly mumbling encouragement in his wife’s direction while trying to watch a home and hardware show on television. In other words, it was a typical night at Ned’s house.

Cherish, being Malaysian, had dark brown hair, dark skin and piercing brown eyes. Even in her old age – Peter thought she was probably nearing fifty – her skin was soft and smooth, something he knew from her frequent hugs. Her good nature permeated through everything, but mostly through her son, Ned. Even the house seemed to ooze happiness, but that may have just been Peter’s experiences and memories speaking.

Her husband was half-Hispanic, half-Hawaiian and totally laid back where Cherish was all bubbles and fun. He lazed around as the manager of an auto repair shop, only getting up if there was a big problem. Just looking at him, you wouldn’t have picked him out as a kind, caring, attentive father, but Peter knew different. He was endlessly proud of his son and successful wife, content to sit back and watch them shine. He’d taken much the same attitude with Peter.

It wasn’t long before the food was done, and they all gathered around the table, exclaiming how good it was. The reds and oranges of the sauces made an absolutely beautiful contrast on the stark white rice, and the flavours were just as magnificent.

“So, how’s May doing, Peter?” Cherish asked, leaning over and piling more food onto his plate, despite Peter insisting that he was full already.

“Yeah, she’s doing alright. Still working as an editor for that publishing company. She likes it because it means she can stay at home most of the time, just in case something happens. She’s also started back up with her blog writing. Seems to be enjoying it again.”

“That’s good." She eyed him like a hawk until he took another bite of the dish, his stomach heaving uncertainly at the action. Cherish smiled brightly at him, though, so he supposed it was worth the effort. "And how about you? How’s school going?”

“Not bad.” Peter dodged, hoping she wouldn’t ask about-

Cherish nodded, seeming to pick up on his reluctance, but she immediately pounced on the one topic Peter was hoping to avoid. “Ned said you quit your job, Peter?” She sounded concerned, not curious, and that made Peter feel better, but only slightly.

Peter closed his eyes briefly, dreading the conversation. “Yeah, it was just getting too much with school and all.”

Cherish nodded approvingly, and Sebastian grunted his ascent. “Well, you just stay in school, young man. It’s important. And no job is ever more important than your education.”

Sebastian bobbed his head along with his wife’s words. He leaned over to whisper into Peter’s ear. “You’re a good kid, Peter. You’ll do well, I know it.”

Their support, although not new, was a comfort, and Peter smiled warmly at them both, assuring them that he was taking it alright, and that he would study even harder than before.

When they were washing up, Ned told Peter that he’d been trying to teach his parents to play five hundred, but that he couldn’t quite remember all the rules, so they spent the rest of the night playing cards, laughing and having fun, and Peter forgot all about his troubles and worries of the past few days. He always felt at peace here, and he hoped that would never change.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These are getting shorter, and I'm sorry for it. I promise I'll make the next one a bit longer :)  
> Thanks for reading, guys! Makes my day to see that you're all enjoying it. Hope you're all having a good one, and I'll see you in the next chapter :)


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know I said this would be longer, but we didn't quite make it (sorry). I just wanted the next events to have a chapter of their own, because it's going to be in two distinct parts.

The phone rang for the third time, and Peter glanced at it, groaning when Tony’s name flashed. He knew he couldn’t just avoid him forever, and he still wasn’t entirely sure why he was doing it, but the thought of talking to the older man made Peter’s stomach coil uncomfortably.

Thankfully, May was out, so he didn’t have to dodge her questions as well. He breathed a sigh of relief when the phone went silent, but it was short lived. Immediately, his ringtone sounded again.

 _Tony_ , his phone said.

Taking a deep breath, Peter picked up and pressed the phone into his ear so hard the skin turned white.

“Oh, Peter. I was starting to get worried.” Tony's deep voice, once so comforting and welcome, felt like cold water being dumped on him.

“I don’t need you to be worried about me.” Peter snapped, making him wince, but he couldn't help it. He’d been running high on adrenaline for so long that his nerves were completely frayed. It had only been two days since he’d quit, and the memories of that event were still too fresh.

“I take it that you quitting didn’t go well?” If he was hurt by Peter’s shortness, he did a good job of masking it.

“What does it matter?” Peter growled, pacing the apartment. “I’m not working there, so it’s fine.”

There’s a slight pause from the other end of the line. “Are you okay?”

Peter sighed, his attempts at calming down falling flat. “No, I’m not. I was trying so hard to do it all, and it was making me stressed, and now I don’t have work on my plate, I have to worry about not having any money, even though May says we’ll be fine, but I know we won’t. I’ve got to find something else before too long, but nowhere’s hiring.”

“You’re...a good kid, Pete." The older man sounded stunned. "You’ll find something soon, I’m sure. Do you need-”

“No.” Peter interjected. “No, I don’t need anything from you.”

Another long silence. “Pete, did I...are you angry with me for something?”

His concern only made Peter’s anxiety worse. “Can you just stop calling me? I don’t need you to be babysitting me all the time. I can take care of myself.” _No, you can’t, because look at what happened when you tried-_ “I don’t need your help, I don’t need my superpowers, I don’t need that extra worry. So just leave me alone!” He hung up in frustration, the irrational anger making him throw his phone across the room. After what felt like an eternity, he went over and picked it back up, working on keeping his breathing even. He was probably going to regret that later, but it was worth the silence that would come in the wake of it.

 

Tony stared at his phone, shocked. Peter had never before shown even the capacity for that type of anger, and the revelation left him stunned. There had to be something else, but what could he do? Until Peter told him what was wrong, his hands were tied.

Swallowing, he put the phone down and tried to ignore the hurt that blossomed in his chest. He’d thought he’d built up trust with the kid. Where had that gone?

He sighed and turned to look at Pepper. Beautiful, gorgeous, love-of-his-life Pepper. He felt better just looking at her, which only amplified when she smiled back at him. Whatever it was, they could work through it. They always did.

 

Peter was now sailing through his classes, but he still hadn’t found a job. In the month that he hadn’t been working, their money had mostly dried up, and Peter felt bed that he’d pushed away the offer of help from Tony, if only to make May worry less. Well, he couldn’t go back on it now. Tony had stopped calling, and he wasn’t about to re-open the wound by calling him, especailly not to ask for money.

He just had to find another job, and they’d be okay.

So far, he’d handed out resumes to every shop in a five mile radius of his house, except in the direction of...Peter suppressed a shiver. He didn’t even want to think about it, let alone go there, but he had to.

He was currently sitting on his bed, looking over the same question for his English practice test for the fifth time in a row. He just couldn’t concentrate; not now that the threat was so close. Sighing, he got dressed, grabbed a stack of resumes and headed off in the direction of the coffee shop he dreaded. Better to bite the bullet and just do it than let it ruin his life. Besides, he owed it to May to at least try.

 _Just a look._ He promised himself. _If somewhere’s hiring, I’ll hand in a resume and that’ll be that. Just a look, that’s all it is._

 

He was drawn to the coffee shop, couldn’t help his feet moving in that direction. His eyes were focused on the storefront, watching through the glass as Timothy pressed the coffee machine’s buttons and Kaitlyn pressed the till’s buttons. Someone, a boy who looked just younger than himself, pushed past him, apologising profusely.

Peter’s eyes followed him. He was in the store’s uniform, backpack over his shoulder, racing in, looking like he was late. Peter had never seen him before, but his stomach dropped in disbelief when Andy came out and started stepping into his space, hands on him, smoothing his uniform and manipulating him so he would stand straight.

The boy and he looked so much alike. He had brown hair, half-white skin, brown eyes and a lopsided smile. The only thing that was truly different was their size. The boy was probably thirteen or fourteen years old, barely old enough to work, and he was so much shorter than Peter was. Maybe Andy thought that he would be an easier target than Peter had been.

Feeling sick, Peter turned away. He’d half-convinced himself at that point that, if Tony had meant him any harm, he would have done something by now, but he knew instinctively he’d have to get over that fear sooner rather than later, because he had to do something about this, and the only person he knew who could maybe do anything was Tony Stark, head of Stark Enterprises and member of the Avengers.

 

Peter stared at his phone, huddled in his bedroom with blankets wrapped around him like he was in a cocoon, a tub of ice cream he’d bought on his way home wedged in the bedding, spooning comfort food into his mouth, barely tasting it, but loving the sugar haze that was enveloping him. He’d have to call him. He would. He would, just...a few more minutes.

When the ice cream tub was empty, he felt even worse, so he snuggled down into the mattress and closed his eyes, unable to avoid the memories that came from the darkness of his mind, threatening to overwhelm him. His stomach heaved, uncomfortable from the amount of junk and the memories, begging him to allow it to empty itself.

Breathing heavily, he crawled out of bed and to the bathroom, moving slowly so he wouldn’t throw up prematurely. The tiles were blessedly cool against his heated skin, and before he knew it, he was curled up on the bathroom floor. Somehow, the tiles were getting wet, and it was then that Peter realised he’d started crying again.

It felt awful, like something ugly was coiling up his thighs, wrapping around his waist, sticking sickly to the places Andy had touched him, even where he hadn’t, phantom hands doing unspeakable things as he imagined what Andy might have done to him if he hadn’t-

“Peter?” May’s voice cut through everything, and he sat up sharply, hitting his head on the bathroom sink.

“Ouch!”

May was suddenly in the bathroom with him, hands on his shoulders. “Are you okay, honey?”

Peter blinked tears from his eyes. “Yeah, just not feeling too good.” May’s hand went to his forehead.

“Oh, yeah, you’ve got quite a temperature. You feeling sick?”

“Just hot. Really hot. But maybe eating all that ice cream didn’t help.”

Her fingers carded through his hair, her other hand rubbing soothing circles into her back. “Well, just do what you need to do, okay? But remember, a bath almost always helps. So if you need to...just feel better soon.”

She left him, and he lay there for another few minutes, just soaking up the coolness of the tiles, before he crawled over to the toilet. He knew it was dangerous, but he’d been doing this for the past week or so, so he knew how to stick his fingers down his throat in order to trigger his gag reflex. The motion made him feel better somehow.

Unprepared to do anything just now, Peter crept back to bed and curled back into his blankets, his stomach empty. He knew this was bad, worse than anything he’d ever done before, but the pain of keeping himself empty pushed the feeling of Andy’s hands at bay. When he was in pain, it eclipsed everything else. It hadn’t gotten to the point where the pain of the hunger wasn’t enough – yet. He kept a knife under his mattress just in case, though.

A part of his mind screamed at him that this wasn’t normal, that it wasn’t okay, that he was taking this too far, but he couldn’t help it. He felt so lost and alone, and the pain was an anchor, albeit one that seemed to be slipping further away from him each day.

Closing his eyes, Peter vowed to do something tomorrow. It could all wait until tomorrow.

 

Tomorrow came around quicker than he wanted it to. His alarm went off, even though it was Sunday, and he rolled over, staring down his phone, begging himself to just pick it up. Just pick it up and call. That’s all it would take.

_Come on, Peter. You can do it. Nothing to it. Just pick it up. He probably won’t even answer it. Just dial in the number. Come on._

His hand reached out slowly, finally closing around his phone, snatching it close to his body. With shaking fingers, he went to his contacts, blinking at Tony’s name.

 _He probably won’t pick up._ He reminded himself. With a final, sharp intake of breath, Peter stabbed the name and held it to his ear, the dial tone ringing.

_Ring! Please don’t pick up._

_Ring! Please don’t pick up._

_Ring! Please don’t..._

_Ring Please pick up._

_Ring! Please-_

“Pete?”

“Oh, thank god, Mr Stark, I-”

“Are you okay?”

They tried to talk over each other for a minute before Peter finally snapped. “Just listen to me, please?” He asked, strained voice making the older man shut up. “I need to talk to you about something, but...face to face.” His voice lowered to a whisper. “Please.”

“Of course. Where do you want to meet? Should I have Happy come pick you up?”

“No! Please, just...you know that park, where you picked me out of lake?”

“Yeah.” Tony said slowly.

“There. Tonight. Seven.”

“Okay.”

 

Peter looked at his reflection and winced. Tony would be able to tell the difference. He was looking pale – even paler than usual – and gaunt, his eyes haunted. Or at least, that’s what he saw. There was nothing he could do about it now, though.

He’d had a meal, albeit a small one, and the feeling of being full left him uncomfortable, like he was bloated, and the ghosts of Andy’s hands clutched at the small bulge of his stomach, kneading the flesh until he felt sick.

Taking a deep breath, he pulled his suit from the closet, eyes misting over for a second. He hadn’t put it on since he’d quit, and the sight of it, the thought of putting it on, of having it hug every curve of his body, filled him with dread. True, the friendly voice he called Karen would be in it, but she barely made up for the misery.

Despite those feelings, he slid it on, pushing the button to have it fit to his body.

“Hello, Peter.” Karen chirped.

“Hi, Karen.” He replied, already swinging out of his bedroom window and making his way to the park. “Can you do me a favour?”

“Of course.”

“Don’t record the conversation I’m about to have? I don’t want to have more than one memory of tonight.”

“Of course, Peter.”

 

Tony waited in the park. It was just gone seven o’clock, and he was getting anxious. Of course, he’d been worried for a long time. Peter hadn’t seemed like his happy self, and if previous phone calls were anything to go by, it seemed to be getting worse.

The possibilities were driving him half-mad. Peter wouldn’t start taking drugs, would he? He hadn’t had sex and contracted AIDS or something? He hadn’t…

A silhouette streaked across the sky, and Tony looked up, anticipating the moment he’d get to see Peter’s cute, quirky face again. He was like the son he’d never gotten to have – yet, and he would do anything to protect him. Anything.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, next chapter's going to have part one in Peter's perspective, and part two the same scene in Tony's perspective.  
> Thanks for reading, guys, and I hope you all enjoyed it :)  
> Hopefully the next one won't be too long.


	5. Chapter 5

Tony was already waiting in the park, and Peter’s heart rate spiked, and he fought the urge to turn around and run home. Taking several deep breaths, he walked closer, taking each step at a time. The suit opened up, and Tony stepped out. The view of his face, in real life, right in front of him, made him feel like a deer caught in the headlights.

He stopped, waiting for Tony to come closer, not ready to approach someone when he didn’t know their intentions. The older man came within speaking distance, then within touching distance, then-

Peter pulled back, getting out of hugging range, and a look of hurt flashed across the billionaire’s face before it was schooled back into a neutral expression. A silence stretched out between them, Peter worrying at his bottom lip, Tony looking stiff and uncertain.

“So...” Tony started quietly, awkward in a way Peter had never heard him. “Did you want to...take a walk or something?”

Peter shook his head, and a new silence came into the space between them, pressing down heavily, like a thick blanket, and Peter thought he couldn’t breathe. His lungs felt like they were shrinking, his head growing fuzzy as not enough oxygen got to his brain. His vision was going dark, even blacker than the starless night, his legs getting weak, until-

 

Groaning, Peter came back to, blinking in the new, harsh light. His mask had been removed, and he felt strangely naked without it. Slowly, looking around, he realised that Tony had moved him to under a street lamp, and was sitting with him, fiddling with his engagement ring. Upon hearing the noise of Peter moving, he was suddenly there, helping him to his feet. Peter remembered these strong arms, connected to just as strong shoulders, which he’d awkwardly hugged when he’d thought...when he’d thought…

Guilt crashed against him in waves, and he struggled not to cry. It would be too hard to do anything if he started crying now. Too hard to even live anymore. It would be too embarrassing.

“I’m sorry.” He whispered against Tony’s shoulder, not letting him go. “I’m so sorry.”

Tony’s arms came around him then, holding him closer, tighter, warmer, and Peter found himself melting into it like butter, sighing into the embrace.

“I’m sorry.” He was asking for forgiveness for ever thinking such awful things of his former mentor, for being angry with him after…

“At my job, my boss...he...he would...” He shook his head. That’s not what he needed to say. “When I tried to quit, he wouldn’t let me. He tried to – to – to...”

Tony pulled back from him, frowning. He didn’t understand. He had to make him understand.

“His hands were...his lips were...”

Suddenly, Tony seemed to get it, his eyes flashing dangerously. “He touched you?” His voice was much more gentle than his expression.

Peter didn’t know how to correct him, so he didn’t, because even if it hadn’t _actually_ happened, it had come close enough, closer than he would have ever wanted it to. So he nodded, and Tony’s embrace tightened just that little bit more.

“There’s another boy working there now.” Peter murmured. This was why he was here, after all. He needed to push through for him; for the boy he didn’t even know. “He’s doing the same things he did to me. I saw him. It...it won’t be long before he does it to him too.” He pulled away from Tony, looked into his face. “You need to do something. Whatever you can, to save him.”

Peter wanted, and had expected, Tony to race away, going to get the FBI or whoever onto the case, but the older man stayed where he was. “Pete...” He started, “you...you’re paper thin. You look sick. Are...are you eating?”

Peter nodded and, while it wasn’t technically a lie, it still felt bad. Tony’s hand fell on his shoulder, squeezing gently.

“Peter, I just want to help. Tell me. Tell me what’s been going on.”

Closing his eyes, Peter turned away. Tony was right, of course. He should tell someone what he was doing to himself in order to cope, but the words just wouldn’t come out. “I...I can’t...” He whispered into the night air, his head drooping. He felt like such a failure. He should be better than this. Better than developing an eating disorder, better than letting himself remember, over and over again, better than not being able to talk about it, better than-

Tony walked past him, picking up his elbow and starting to walk him around the park in slow, wide circles. “Tell me at your own pace.” Tony said gently, keeping the same, plodding rhythm. “It’s okay. It can take however long you want. But I’m not leaving until you’ve gotten it all off your chest.”

Peter blinked up at him, shocked. His feet stumbled, but Tony was there to help him stay upright. He took a minute to appreciate the night. It was starless as yet, the moon the only light in the sky, just a sliver of bright white. It was autumn, the leaves already falling from the trees. Peter started a little at the realisation.

"I'm sixteen..." He whispered, and Tony looked over to him, blinking in surprise. "I didn't even do anything for my birthday."

Tony's eyebrows drew together. "It's alright. We'll have a late celebration when you feel you're ready for it. How about that?"

"I...I can't...I couldn't ask you to...we don't..." He didn't know how to say what he wanted to say. "I can't." He finished, hanging his head. Swallowing, he pushed the thought of it all aside. That wasn't why he was here. He had to tell Tony, because Tony was his last hope. His eyes shifted out into the darkness. “I was there for a couple of shifts before it started. I was a couple of minutes late, and he took me to his office, told me everything I’d been doing wrong. My uniform didn’t sit right, so he fixed it. My back wasn’t straight, so he pulled my shoulders back. I didn’t tuck my shirt in, so...well, you get the idea. That kept going on for a while, but it escalated. Even if my uniform was perfect, he would come into my space and ‘fix’ it.

His throat constricted, his mind recreating the feeling of Andy's hands pushing at his sides, sliding down his chest. The fallen leaves crunched under their feet, now crisply audible in the silence. “But I didn’t want to quit.” Peter finally managed to squeeze out, his voice seemingly swallowed up by the thick night air. “I didn’t want to quit because we needed the money, because...well, because you’d found me the work. So I convinced myself it was fine.

He closed his eyes and just breathed for a few moments, his legs starting to warm up, finally. He'd barely even noticed he'd been cold before. “I didn’t have any other point of reference, except the times I’d been with you, and it made me think that maybe...maybe...” He couldn’t finish that thought, but he didn’t have to. Tony had brought them to a stop, and pulled Peter in closer for another hug.

“I would never hurt you. Not like that. Not like anything. I wouldn’t hurt you.”

“I know.” Peter said quietly, the shame prickling up his spine once again. “I’m sorry.”

Tony’s embrace tightened slightly. “You've got nothing to be sorry for. You were under stress. I understand that you were upset, didn’t know what else to think.”

After another few seconds, he let Peter go, and they started walking again. It was a long time before Peter resumed talking, but Tony didn’t seem to mind.

“When you gave me ‘permission’ to quit, it was like a door had opened. It still took me a while to get up the courage to actually do it, but…

Another long silence came between them, but there was no expectation that Peter felt, just patience, and that filled him with warmth. “I was in his office when I quit, and he pounced on me, trapped me against a wall. I forgot all about super powers. I was just...so scared.” His eyes filled with tears, and he couldn’t keep walking anymore. He made his way over to a bench and flopped down, not caring that he was so bony now that it almost hurt.

Tony followed on his heels, sitting next to him, a comforting presence. Peter pulled his knees up and hugged them to his chest, the light above them filtering down through the leaves of an overhanging tree, making patterns on his suit that he traced with his finger. “His body was pushing against mine...” Peter’s throat closed over, and he had to take several breaths before he could continue.

“He kissed me.” Peter’s eyes squeezed shut. Saying it out loud felt like a confession. Like he’d done something wrong. He wished he could just be swallowed up by the darkness. But as hard as he wished for it, reality didn't work like that.

So he kept talking. “I ran after that. Pushed him aside and ran.”

After another long silence, Tony shifted in his seat. “So what have you been doing? In the month since?”

Peter didn’t want to tell him. He knew what he was asking, but…

He was flying through the sky just seconds later, slinging his webs between buildings, making his way back to his room, where he was safe.

 

Tony watched him go, and thought about everything Peter had told him. He’d been hurt. Badly. No wonder he’d been acting off. And everything in him wanted to find that man and burn him to a crisp - and not even with the suit. He’d pull him apart with his bare hands. The young man who’d been so happy and easily excited had looked broken, and God help the man who’d done that to him, because Tony would be coming back with a vengeance.

He made his way back to his suit, slipping inside it and flying to the closest police station. They seemed stunned to see him there, but listened to his story.

“I’m sorry, Mr. Stark,” one officer said, clearly quaking in his boots, “but we can’t do anything. Unless there’s actual evidence-”

He shut his gob when Tony glared at him. “The evidence is that I say it happened. A young man was assaulted, and possibly another will soon be. If you can’t do anything about that – even just look into it – what use are you?”

The officer swallowed, but gallantly pressed on. “I’m sorry,” he stressed, “but we can’t do anything.”

Tony slammed his fist against the desk, making everyone flinch. “Fine. I’ll do it myself.”

“Uh, that’s…” The officer wisely trailed off, withering under Tony’s heated glare. “That’s...fine.” He finished weakly, looking pale.

“You’re damn right it is.”

 

Andy’s home was small, almost quaint. Tony paid no attention to that. He made sure his suit was recording everything, then broke in, making no attempt to be quiet. A startled yell came from one of the rooms deeper in the house, and Tony made his way there, gripping the middle-aged man by the throat.

“I want you to tell me something, Andy,” Tony took great pleasure in watching the colour drain from his face as he realised that his intruder knew exactly who he was. “And you’re not going to lie to me. Is that clear?”

The dark haired man nodded emphatically, eyes wide and terrified.

“Good.” Tony threw Andy into the corner of the room, looking him over with disgust. He wasn’t a particularly bad-looking man, all things considered. Black hair, slicked back, even in sleep, pale skin and wide brown eyes. “You know a boy named Peter. He worked for you for a while. Sixteen year old.”

Andy’s eyes widened even more, and he shook his head. Tony growled, advancing menacingly. He’d barely taken a step when the man caved, throwing his hands up in front of himself in an effort to ward off an impending attack. “Alright, alright. Yes, I know him. What about him?”

“You did some very naughty things to him, didn’t you, Andy?”

“I...” His face darkened. “He told you.” He cursed softly. “I should have threatened him. Didn’t think he’d have the balls to tell anyone. Guess I’d read him wrong.” He sneered at Tony. “It doesn’t matter anyway. No one will believe him-”

Gritting his teeth, Tony gripped his wrist and pulled him to his feet again, hand wrapping around his throat again. “I believe him.” Tony growled in his face, squeezing just hard enough so that it was hard for him to breathe. “Tell me. Tell me what you did.”

Andy’s voice was strained, but the hatred and anger was clearly audible in his tone. “Didn’t you already hear it from that little slut? He was asking for it, going around-”

Tony tightened his grip, taking great delight in watching the man’s face turn purple. “I want to hear it from you.”

He loosened his grip just enough to let him to speak, and Andy coughed, sucking in gulps of air. “He was quitting. Didn’t see any harm in having a little fun. He’d never pushed me away before then. I thought he wanted it. I told you, he was a little sl-”

Tony threw him aside, storming out of the building and locking his doors and windows, just in case he got any ideas about escaping.

The brave police officer from the station had followed him. “So?”

“Got a laptop or something?”

He nodded, ducking into the backseat. “I shouldn’t have this on shift, but sometimes it gets so boring...anyway...” He typed his password in and passed the laptop to Tony. In a matter of seconds, Tony was showing him the footage of his confession, the officer wincing at each assault. “This is so not admissible in court.” He murmured. “But,” he checked his gun. “It _is_ enough to have a search warrant, and since I’m the captain of the station, I can fabricate paperwork saying that I had it just minutes before now. What’s the time?”

“Nine sixteen.” Tony supplied helpfully. “Just don’t shoot him. I want him to suffer in a prison cell for a long time for what he’s done.”

The officer nodded, turning off his radio. “You really care about this kid, don’t you?”

“He was an intern for me for a while. He became...like a son to me. And anyone who hurts the people who mean most to me...”

“I get it.” He looked over at Tony, an apologetic expression flitting across his face. “We’ve had similar reports about this guy over the last few months, but he’s been too careful, leaving no marks whatsoever on his victims, saying they made it all up. They’re all minors, too, so we can’t take their testimony without an adult’s consent. It’s fucked up.” He took a deep breath. “Promise we’ll get him this time. Thank you.”

Tony waited until he’d burst into the house to leave, flying off into the night. The news tomorrow would hopefully bring Peter some relief.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know that this is almost certainly not how police works but...meh...I'm not sure I care? Anyway, hope you all enjoyed. Promise Peter gets some therapy soon. :)


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took so long for this chapter update (he says as he posts the longest chapter of the whole fanfiction) I was playing Witcher 3 (I'm not sorry; I am a pro procrastinator). Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this next chapter. (They're all so out of character, I'm sorry)  
> Also, there are mentions of self-harm in this chapter. Just so you kids know. :)

“Peter!” May’s voice cut through the haze of his dreams, making him groan and stiffly sit up, still half-asleep. “Peter, I need to talk to you about something, sweetheart.”

She was sitting at the foot of his bed, a concerned, urgent look on her face, and Peter redoubled his efforts to wake up.

“What time is it?” He finally managed.

“Just past two. I only just got home.” Her hand found his and squeezed tightly. “Something...I heard something on the news, on the radio, baby. I just...want to tell you before you hear about it from somewhere else.”

Peter’s heart squeezed in his chest. He hadn’t done anything. There couldn’t possibly be-

“Your boss, Andy...” May started, and this time it was his stomach that lurched uncomfortably. If she’d heard something, it meant that Tony had done as he’d asked, but...how? What had happened? He should have been happy, but all he could think about was that Andy now probably knew that it was him who’d said something, and that he would be coming after him, and that May was now in danger, too. “Peter? Sweetheart, are you listening? Are you okay?”

Peter couldn’t breathe. His skin was too tight. It felt like he was being eaten alive. Water was cascading down his back, and the steady pressure of the shower brought him slowly back to. He blinked in the darkness; May hadn’t turned on the bathroom light in her haste.

“Is...everything’s going to be okay, right?” He asked, his voice raw. “He can’t-”

“He’s not getting out. They found...it was definitive. He’s going away for a long time. I promise, honey. I promise.” Her voice was pitched low, soothing.

“I...May, I’m so tired.” He moaned, resting his head against the side of the bathtub as he stretched his legs out. The tub was too small for him now, but when he’d first gotten in it, he’d been seven years old. They’d all moved together, unable to afford their previous place with rising rent and an extra person to care for. He’d felt guilty about it, but May had just put him in the bathtub and played around with toy boats and ducks until he’d laughed.

He sighed at the memory. It had been a good time. He missed the times when it had been so easy to make him feel better.

May stroked his hair back from his forehead, trying her best to soothe him. “Do you want me to let you get out, or stay here with you for a bit?”

Taking a shaky breath, Peter sat up in the tub, shivering slightly. “I think I might just have a shower.” He said, smiling weakly at his aunt, hoping she wouldn’t ask too many questions, because all he really wanted to do was get rid of the meal he’d had before going to see Tony, and maybe find one of the razors in the bathroom cabinet…

“Okay, honey. Just let me know if there’s anything you need, alright?” She closed the door behind herself gently, and Peter waited until he heard her footsteps padding away before turning the shower on and sticking his hand into his mouth as far as it would go.

 

May paced the apartment, worried.

_I shouldn’t have told him. He’s not doing well. I should have...well, what else could I have done? Finding out at school would have been a disaster, and finding out from the news would probably have been worse. There was no good option._

Peter hadn’t needed to confirm anything for her to know that something awful had happened; she’d known from the second he’d walked in the door and started crying on that day a month ago. Of course, he’d cried when he’d lost the internship, but that had been different. Because this time, he’d started getting thinner, had looked almost dead, walking around the house some days like he wasn’t even there.

She knew Peter was eating; food disappeared from the fridge and freezer at the same rate as always, even if it was more junk food than usual, so he must have been throwing it back up. If anything, that was more worrisome. She’d done some research, and found out that sometimes, after a traumatic experience, people developed eating disorders in order to help them cope with it.

It was then that she’d known the truth of it; the arrest just confirmed it – Andy, Peter’s former boss, had touched her nephew in unspeakable ways. A cold anger filled her chest, spreading down her limbs. She was glad he would be getting punished, and not just for what he’d done to Peter. The news had touched on all the other little boys he'd done things to. She shivered. She was very glad that Peter hadn't found out that way; they went into gruesome, unnecessary details on the news.

Looking over at the bathroom door, she decided she’d just have a little peek, make sure he wasn’t doing anything bad, like throwing up again. Opening the door just a crack, she sighed when she didn’t see anything suspicious.

Just as she was about to turn away, Peter’s hand reached out of the shower and gripped the white handle of the cupboard under the basin, leaving a slightly yellow smudge...and pulled out a pack of razors. Her heart leapt into her throat, and she burst through the door.

“Peter!” She ripped the curtain open, knocking the blades out of his hand and turning the shower off, handing him a towel before taking it back and wrapping it around him forcefully. “Peter, no, why...come on, Peter. Come out of there.” She patted him dry and dragged him to his room, where she dressed him, before pushing him across the hall and into her room, dropping him on her bed. Collapsing against the inside of her door, she looked Peter over. No cuts. None that she could see, anyway.

Peter looked ashamed, and sadness welled in her chest, filling her eyes with tears. “Peter, I’m not angry. I just...you can’t do that. You can’t hurt yourself, honey. That’s not the solution.”

His shoulders started shaking, and then he was sobbing, bending over and resting his elbows on his knees, face in his hands, loud noises falling from his lips. She went to him, pulling him close, rocking him gently just like she had when he was a child, missing his parents.

“I’m sorry.” He gasped in between sobs, barely intelligible, his voice was so thick. “I know it’s not the answer, I just can’t help it. It makes me feel better.”

May didn’t know what to say to that, so she just held him until he stopped crying, and then as he drifted off into sleep. She looked over at the time – four thirty. Sighing, she started carding her fingers through his hair. “I think it’s time to go and get some professional help.” She whispered, her own eyelids drooping. “You’re gonna be okay. I promise.”

 

Tony walked into the living room, looking around at the others, who were all gaping at the television.

“What’s going on?” He asked.

It was Natasha who finally spoke up. “That man...arrested for having child pornography and assaulting a bunch of kids...he was Peter’s boss, wasn’t he?”

Tony winced. “Uh...yeah...he was.”

She turned to look at him, and her own face fell when she saw his expression. “He told you?”

“I’m the reason he’s getting behind bars. They told me they couldn’t do anything with just a few kids saying something, so I...I coerced him to confess.”

Now everyone was looking at him, shocked expressions on their faces. “Just don’t ask him about it. You know, when you see him next. He’s still...” Tony sighed and sat down, putting his coffee down on the low table in front of the couch. “He doesn’t look too good. Too thin, haunted.” He fought the urge to just break down right there. Peter had looked so broken that it physically hurt him to even think about it. “I wanted to do worse than hand him over to the police. I wanted to break every bone in his body, wait for them to heal, then do it all over again.”

Steve’s hand fell on his shoulder. “I don’t know him well, but I’m sure Peter’s a really good kid, Tony, and you wouldn’t have asked him to join us if you didn’t think he was strong. He’ll be okay, I’m sure.”

It wasn’t what Tony wanted to hear, but Steve was probably right. Peter was strong. He might be suffering now, but maybe...maybe...in the future…he shook his head. “This is the kind of thing that scars you forever.”

He felt even worse than he had last night, so retreated to his study. Nothing was enough to capture his interest, to keep his mind off of his friend, or what had happened to him. He wanted to call him, but convinced himself not to. Peter would contact him when he was ready. He didn’t need Tony calling him like a worried mother does when her son’s away at his first camp.

Even as he thought about it, his phone rang. He surged forward and picked it up off the table, and sure enough, it was Peter.

“Hey, Tony,” Peter sounded sad.

Tony mentally slapped himself. _Of course he sounds sad, you idiot!_

“I just wanted to say...thanks. For doing something about him.”

“What’s wrong?”

Peter sniffed wetly. “May...wants to send me to a psychologist-”

“Good.”

“But we don’t have the money for that!” Peter sounded distressed, and Tony immediately felt bad for interrupting. “She’s insisting, but...we need to eat.”

“Pete, I’ll pay for one. Don’t worry about it. Don’t worry about anything.”

“Thanks, Tony.” It spoke volumes that he wasn’t even protesting the offer of help. “Hey...um...”

“What is it?”

There was a long, long silence. “...Nothing, don’t worry about it.”

“Pete...”

A soft thudding sound came through the connection. “The other kids aren’t being exactly supportive.” He said finally, almost a whisper.

“I’ll come over there and-”

“No! Please, just...can you send someone to pick me up? Someone discreet?” He sighed. “I just don’t want to be here.”

“Sure thing. Someone will be there soon, I promise.”

 

Peter hung up, feeling shaky. He hadn’t been harassed like this...well, ever. Even when Uncle Ben had died, there had been people who were sympathetic. Now, it was just Ned. Everyone else thought he was making up some sob story because he’d been fired again. MJ seemingly had no opinion on the matter, which was at least refreshing, but Peter wished that everyone would stop...looking at him. Even Ned’s looks were getting on his nerves.

He’d told the principal what was going on, and he’d agreed to let him go home, but May was at work, so he’d called Tony, because he was the only person he could think of who would agree to pick him up from school in the middle of the day.

Taking a few seconds to gather himself, he took three final breaths and pushed out of the toilet stall he’d been hiding in, making his way out to the front of the school, waiting for someone – probably Happy – to come and pick him up.

A car pulled up not too long after, and Peter slid into the backseat. Sure enough, it was Happy who was in the front seat, his usually harsh eyes flicking to the rear-view mirror, looking slightly dewy. Peter sighed and looked out the window, trying to avoid eye contact.

Finally, they pulled up outside the new Stark Enterprises building, the whole cast of the Avengers standing out front. His stomach grew a stone the size of a fist, sinking deeper. He knew what they’d all be falling over themselves to say, but he didn’t want to hear any of it. He just wanted to slink into a corner, curl up, and go to sleep for a hundred years.

Natalie was the first to greet him and, to his surprise and delight, it was just a warm smile and a polite ‘hello’. He smiled back, bemused, but pleased. Every one else offered him a similar greeting, and he found his spirits suitably buoyant.

“Come and have something to eat.” Steve said, coming up and patting him on the back. “I used to be a skinny as you, but I think food’s a better solution than the one I took.”

“I don’t know,” Peter quipped, feeling more like himself than he had in days, even months, “I think I wouldn’t mind being as big as you.”

“Ah, you say that now, but when the whole of a country expects you to act like a giant shield, you might think differently.” His brow furrowed. “That went a lot darker than intended.” He shook his head. “What did you want to eat?”

Peter shrugged, still feeling pretty good. “Whatever you’ve got.”

Minutes later, Peter was staring at a huge pile of scrambled eggs with tomato, cheese and onion stirred in. Seasoned with pepper and salt, it was practically a gourmet meal. He was about to tuck in when Natalie slid herself into the chair next to him with a handful of chopped herbs. “Try these; they’re really good. The tomatoes are a bit bland this season.”

“Thanks.” Peter said, beaming. He took the first bite, and had to agree. The tomatoes _were_ a bit bland, but the herbs more than made up for it. “It’s really good.”

Both Natasha and Steve smiled back, and a warm feeling grew in his chest.

“Is Tony around?”

Steve’s face fell, and Natasha’s smile became forced. “He’s...not feeling too well.” She said, but it was an obvious cover. “He said to make you feel at home.”

Bruce appeared in the doorway. “He’s not coping well.” He said gently, sipping at his mug. “From what I see...” his eyes roved over Peter’s form, “and hear, neither are you.”

“Bruce.” Natasha hissed, but he ignored her.

Coming closer, he sat down next to Peter. “I’m not a therapist, Peter, but talking about things helps sometimes. We’ve all had to deal with something. Loss.” He pointed at Steve. “Anger.” A finger at himself. “Daddy issues for the big guy himself, identity...everything...except maybe this. We don’t know how to deal with this assault any better than you do, but if you need to talk it out with anyone, we’re all here to help.” He looked sharply at Natasha and Steve. “But pretending it didn’t happen isn’t the way to fix it.”

“Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this here...” Steve intervened, seeing Natasha seething. She’d opened her mouth, about to retort, but Steve’s words had her pulling back, breathing heavily.

“Fine.” She stormed out.

“I liked that they pretended it didn’t happen.” Peter said quietly. “It made it easier to forget.” He left the room, not caring to hear what anyone had to say to that, and started wandering aimlessly.

Despite never having explored this place before, the layout was so similar to the previous Stark Enterprises that he found himself standing in the doorway to the lab where Tony worked. The billionaire hadn’t yet noticed him, but was bent over some project or other, looking focused.

Stepping in on silent feet, he crept around the room, looking at certain things that he hadn’t seen before. Finally, after what must have been at least five minutes, he cleared his throat, making the older man jump. Peter smiled weakly at him.

“Pete. I’m...it’s good to see you.”

“You too.” He swallowed, feeling awkward. “What are you working on?”

Tony shook his head. “Nothing important. Are...are you feeling better now?”

“A bit, yeah. Steve made me some scrambled eggs. They were...pretty good.” He closed his eyes. “May...found out about me…about what happened.”

“I’m sorry. I...I should have-”

“No, I’m glad it happened how it did. I was just...”

“Peter-” Tony’s words died on his lips, and neither of them really knew what to say. The older man swallowed, and beckoned Peter closer. “Come take a look at this.”

Peter came over and looked down at the thing Tony had been working on; a new weapon attachment for Natasha to try out. He explained everything that was going on with it, and Peter listened, again finding comfort in the mundane nature of it – well, it was mundane for him.

After about half an hour of just plain stuff – looking over blueprints and chemical formulae that would boggle most of his classmates – Peter was feeling jumpy again, because he felt that Tony deserved some answers.

“I...you asked-”

Tony shook his head. “Don’t tell me something you’ll regret just because you think you owe it to me, Peter. That’s never a good idea.”

He took his hand away, and Peter exhaled like he was trying to expel his spirit from his body. “Thanks, Tony.”

“It’s all good, kid.” He smiled at him, hand coming up to squeeze his shoulder. “Why don’t you go and find Natasha? She had something she wanted to show you, I think.”

 

Sure enough, Natasha was waiting for him in the gym.

“Tony said you wanted to see me.”

She smiled. “I did.” She pulled out some boxing gloves and training punch pads. “I know you haven’t been doing any ‘superheroing’ for a while, but just in case you decide to start up again, this’ll help. I also wanna go over some self-defence stuff.”

Peter went still for a second. How had she known? He was terrified of going outside now, had to work himself up to it every time, convince himself that he could at least run if Andy showed up.

Her smile softened. “Peter, everyone gets scared after they’ve experienced something scary. It’s why we’re afraid of creaks in the night; they used to be tigers and lions. I just hope you can feel a bit better about everything once you’ve had a refresher.”

Peter smiled back at her, that warm glow overtaking him yet again. He honestly felt better just by being around these people. They would protect him if anything happened.

 

A few hours later, Peter was panting and more than a little sore. Natasha handed him a water bottle. “Go have a shower, then come to the living room. It’s close to the kitchen. If you get lost, just call one of us. We’ve all decided to have a movie night. How does Chinese takeout sound?”

Peter sighed happily. “Awesome.”

“Good. Don’t take too long in the shower.”

Standing on shaky legs, he tottered over to the shower and stood under the blessedly hot spray. His mind strayed, but he was able to rope it back in, closing his eyes and washing the sweat off. He cut it shorter than he would have liked, and was halfway through drying himself when he realised he didn’t have a change of clothes, and he really didn’t fancy the idea of putting his sweaty clothes back on. So, he called Tony.

“Hey, what’s up? You lost?”

“No, I...I don’t have a change of clothes…”

“Oh. Right. You have a room here. It’s across from my workshop. I had it filled with clothes that would probably fit you. There are a few mediums, a few smalls, and a few extra smalls.”

Peter blinked. “Wow. Thanks, Tony.”

He hung up and padded through the building, opening a few doors before he got to what he thought was the right one. There was a dresser, a bed, a thick, woollen rug, an en suite, and a television. It practically looked like a hotel room. He knew it was probably his because it looked untouched.

Closing the door behind himself, he opened up the drawers of the dresser, and his attention was immediately gripped by a black and white jersey that looked big enough to eat him alive. Slipping on a plain t-shirt, he pulled out the jersey and watched in delight as it unfolded.

As soon as it was over his head, he realised there was more than enough of it to fully envelope him. He loved it. Completing his outfit with a pair of pyjama pants, he retraced his steps to the kitchen, then looked in a few rooms before he found the living room. Only Bruce, Tony, Thor, Vision and Wanda were there yet.

“Hey, Pete.” Tony said cheerfully, getting up and leading him back to the kitchen. “What do you want to eat?”

“Uh...something with a lot of vegetables, minimal sugar.”

Tony looked at him strangely, but didn’t ask him about it. Even so...there was something that was begging him to tell Tony, so…

“I’ve been throwing up anything too heavy; things too sugary or too meat-based.” He swallowed. “By choice.” He added in a small voice.

There was a still silence, where neither of them even dared breathe. Slowly, Tony nodded. “Alright. Nothing too sugary. Go back in there. I know everyone else’s orders.”

Natasha had finally arrived, and was handing out pillows that Steve was carrying. She smiled at Peter as she handed him his pillow, and he smiled back, slinking over to a corner of the room and curling up into a ball. After she was done with the pillows, she put a movie on on Netflix, something meant to be funny, but Peter was barely paying attention. He was so tired...his eyelids were drooping...and he was yawning...his limbs felt heavy...he was so exhausted...he was curling further into the pillow and jersey...his breaths deepening...until he was asleep.


	7. Chapter 7

Sunlight was streaming in through his open window, just barely touching his face due to the reflection from his mirror. He blinked awake, surprised to find himself in his own room, back at the apartment.

His backpack was on his chair, a note taped to the front.

_I brought you home last night, put your takeout in the fridge. Hope you feel better soon -Tony_

Peter smiled at the note, the warmth from yesterday carrying over into the new day. He realised with delight that Tony had let him stay in the huge jersey that he’d picked out last night. Still smiling, he stumbled out into the kitchen, rummaging around in the fridge until he found the Chinese container.

May came into the kitchen not long after. “I haven’t seen that before.”

Peter looked down at himself, then smiled at his aunt. “Ned let me borrow it. It went to his place after school.”

Her face fell, becoming serious, and he just knew that the principal had called her yesterday. “I have to talk to you about some things, Peter.”

“Yeah...”

She led him to the couch and sat him down. “I...I’ve locked all the knives away in a box, and I’m the only one with the combination. You really scared me yesterday, and I had to do something. I’ve also been looking for a therapist for you to see, but...”

“I asked Tony about it. He said he’d find me one.”

May couldn’t hide her surprise. “He...he said that?”

“Yeah. I...I’m sorry, he knew before you did.” He set aside the box of Chinese food. “I told him that night...when he was arrested. I...I knew he would probably be the only one who could do something, and...I went back. To the shop. There was another boy there.”

She reached out and stroked his back in soothing circles. “The principal also called. He said that he’d sent you home early.”

Peter winced slightly. “I asked Sebastian to pick me up. I stayed with them until-”

“I called them, Peter.”

He closed his eyes. “Fine. I was with Tony. I was working on some stuff with him. It was nice.”

May sighed and leaned back into the couch. “Your principal suggested that you take a break from school for a little while. If...” She took a deep breath, as if steadying herself for a huge defeat. “If you want to stay with Mr. Stark, I won’t stop you. If being with him makes you feel better...” She sat up and gripped his hands in hers. “I just want you to promise me that you’ll speak to a professional about this. And if you go to stay with him, I need you to give me his number and I need to sit down with him...how much does he know?”

She was growing frantic, about ready to leap from the couch and pace the room. Peter gripped her hands tighter. “May, it’s okay. I’ll stay here.”

Her wide, panicked eyes turned to him, and he smiled encouragingly. She exhaled heavily. “Good. That’s good.” She swallowed, clearly trying to control herself. “So...how much _does_ he know?”

Peter winced again. “I...I told him about Andy, of course, but I also told him about the...the vomiting.” He wrapped his arms around himself, feeling uncomfortable. “So...how am I going to do homework?”

May blinked at him for a few seconds. “Oh! Right! Henry said that your teachers would be e-mailing it to you. And I’m sure Ned’ll be able to help with the hard to understand things.”

“’Henry’?”

“Hmm? Oh, your principal. He really is a nice man. Speaking of which-”

Peter groaned. “Please don’t tell me you agreed to go on a date with him.”

“What?” May’s voice was pitched high, defensive. “Why shouldn’t I be allowed to date? I’m still young.”

“Of course you should date, but not my principal! That’s so embarrassing!” Peter said, hiding his face in his hands. “You know what? You do what you want, I’m going to bed.” He made to slink away, but she grabbed him around the waist and pulled him to the floor, tickling him.

“You’re not getting away that easy, young man.” She scolded through his laughter. She straddled his waist and held his hands above his head. “Are you okay with me doing this? Because if you’re not, I’ll cancel.”

Peter bit his lip. “Do what you want.” He said eventually with a small shrug.

She smiled and let him up. “How are you feeling?”

That wasn’t really a question Peter wanted to answer. He laid back on the floor and closed his eyes. “I’m...I’m okay.”

He couldn’t look her in the eye. She would know it was a lie. He half-expected her to push it, to ask him again, to-

She stood up and left him alone, and he let out a sigh that turned into a soft sob. He hadn’t wanted her to leave, just to...well, he didn’t know. It felt like he was bleeding, but he knew his skin was whole. Without even thinking about it, he reached for his phone.

 

Tony’s phone buzzed, and he pounced on it. Natasha was worried about him. About both of them. Neither of them were handling this situation well. Not that she was coping much better. After seeing Peter, she’d had a breakdown of her own in the gym. Steve had found her sitting on the floor, breathing heavily, and he’d comforted her, rubbing her back and talking her through it. Thankfully, she’d managed to pull herself together before Peter had found her.

But Tony wasn’t having just one breakdown; he was having more and more frequently occurring episodes where he would pace the room, frowning, until he let everything out in a violent burst, either shouting or throwing things.

He’d offered Peter a therapist, but Natasha thought he could have used one himself.

“Hello?” Tony did his best to keep his tone even, but his face was twisted into an expression of worry.

“That’s...how are you feeling about it?”

A pause while the other person – probably Peter – answered. Everyone in the room was on high alert, wanting to hear as much as they could. None of them knew Peter very well, but they all worried about him, especially since...

“I think it’s probably a good idea. What does May think about it?”

“And do you want to?”

“No, no, do whatever you want to do, Peter. I just want you to be happy.”

“Yeah, of course. I’ll send you a list tonight.”

“That’s alright. Take care.”

Everyone started to breathe again when he hung up. “Well?” Steve asked, sitting forward.

“Well what?”

“How is he?” Bruce asked, looking just as concerned as everyone else.

“He...he’s been told to take some time off school. May offered to let him stay here, but he said he’d rather stay with her, which is...fine.” He looked disappointed despite his tone, and Natasha was inclined to feel the same. If he stayed with them, they could keep an eye on him. Even so, if that’s what Peter wanted… “He asked if I could send him a few recommendations of some therapists he could go to see.”

Everyone seemed to relax back into their seats. “I know you’ve been keeping up the his trial.” Natasha said, and everyone looked to her. “How’s it going?”

Tony gritted his teeth. “He’s pleading not guilty, and that I threatened him to confess. They’re looking for people to testify. They...they’ll want to ask Peter.”

A heavy silence hung in the air as that sunk in. Finally, Natasha spoke up. “You should ask him.”

“No.” He left before she could say anything else, and she sighed, sitting back. She supposed it would be cruel to ask, but...if it put him away…

“I’ll ask.” Steve volunteered. “We don’t really know each other, so if I ask, there’s not really anything we lose.”

Natasha wasn’t sure, but the more she thought about it, the more it made sense. “Okay.”

 

The knock on the door came late. May sat up and went to the door, opening it to see a large puppy of a man on her doorstep. He looked mildly uncomfortable. “Is...is Peter here?”

May blinked up at him. He looked vaguely familiar, like she’d seen him somewhere… “Uh, yeah, come in.”

He walked past her, and she gazed up at his huge form. He barely fit into the hallway. “Come through to the living room. Peter’s...not feeling very well, so I’d rather I passed on a message. It’s alright. You can tell me what you’d be telling him.”

The huge man stood awkwardly in the living room until she asked him to sit; he then _sat_ awkwardly in the living room. “I’d really rather talk to him directly.”

She stood firm. Eventually, he caved. “Have you been...keeping up with the news?” He asked softly.

It was her turn to sink into the cushions of the couch. “Oh. It’s about that?”

The man’s puppy eyes grew even sadder. “I’m sorry to bring it up but...in order to put him away, they need as many people to testify as possible and...well...” He shifted uncomfortably, and she felt a wave of sympathy for him. “It would mean so much to put him away. I know...it’ll be scary, but there will be a lot of people willing to protect him.”

Peter came into the living room, and the man stood. Her nephew looked upset, but calm. “I can’t.”

The man’s shoulder’s sagged. “I...I’m sorry I’m even asking.”

“How many others have agreed?”

The man shook his head. “I...” He sighed heavily. “I can’t tell you. I’m sorry.”

Peter nodded slowly. “I’ll...” He swallowed thickly. “I’ll think about it.” He looked up into the man’s face, and something passed between them, something May couldn’t understand. The man stepped back and placed a huge paw on her nephew’s shoulder.

“I’ll see you, then.”

“Yeah. Tell Tony thanks. I just got the list.”

Suddenly, May knew who he was. Captain America. She could only gape at him. Somehow, she’d imagined someone more...rough around the edges. He left, and May had to remember to breathe.

“That man…he was Captain America?”

“Yeah. Steve.” He didn’t stay to explain, just slunk back to his room. May’s heart squeezed with worry, but she didn’t know what to do. More than ever, she wished there was a handbook she could look at that would tell her how to deal with this.

 

Sebastian didn’t consider himself to be the best father ever, but he prided himself on trying his best. So, when he read the news about Peter’s former boss being a paedophile, he knew he had to do something.

He decided to deal with it right away, so he chose the neutral territory of the dining room for an 'encounter'.

“Hey,” he started softly, drawing both Cherish and Ned’s eyes. The weight of their gazes settled on him and he swallowed, suddenly lost. “So, how’s school?” He asked, floundering.

Ned sighed through his nose. “It’s fine, dad.”

“Well, you seem a little...distracted. Is something wrong?”

His shoulders slumped, and he dropped his fork and knife onto his plate. “Peter’s not doing so great. He won’t be at school for a while.”

“Oh no.” Cherish said, ready to leap out of her chair and gather food into a basket to send to Peter’s house. Sebastian anticipated it and put his hand over hers to calm her.

“What’s wrong?”

Ned looked uncomfortable. “I..don’t think he’d want me to tell you.”

Cherish remained flighty, and Ned’s answer hadn’t helped one whit. “I have to go over.” She said, fiddling nervously with the tablecloth. “He...May might-”

“Mom.” Ned said pleadingly. “I can’t tell you what it is, but he’s not sick. He’s going to be okay.” There was a small pause, a clear indication it was a lie, but Cherish didn’t pick up on it. “I’ll be going over tomorrow, to give him some help with his homework.”

“Okay.” Sebastian said, ignoring the daggers being glared his way from Cherish. “Why don’t you go up and do your homework? I have to talk with your mom for a minute.”

Ned sounded almost sad when he agreed, trudging to the kitchen and depositing his plate in the sink before going upstairs. As soon as he was out of ear-shot, Cherish turned to him and hissed, “Why did you just cave like that? What if-”

Sebastian held his hands up and stood. “I looked at the news. Read for yourself.” He handed her the tablet he’d gotten from the sideboard. “But Cherish,” she looked up at him, “don’t say anything to either of them. Let them figure it out on their own, or come to us for help. I don’t think there’s anything else we can do for them, other than let them know we’re here.”

Cherish looked worried, but nodded, before putting her head down and reading the article. Sebastian just wondered if he’d done the right thing.

 

The website for this therapist had been the most easy-to-understand, so Peter had placed all his trust in it. He was beginning to seriously regret that decision. The room he was waiting in was decorated in an alarming shade of lime green, giving the whole place a sickly feel, which was definitely not helped by the alternating black and white leather couches with opposite cushions that furnished it. In the corner were a bunch of toys that looked as though they had been found in a rubbish tip, beaten and bruised beyond repair.

Sighing, he sat gingerly on the closest couch and waited for his therapist to introduce themselves.

Just minutes later, a young, blonde woman emerged from a door painted a garish yellow.

“Peter Parker?” She asked, already looking directly at him.

He stood and nodded. They shook hands, and he followed her into the room behind the yellow door. If anything, it was even worse than the foyer had been. A bright, headache-inducing orange, the walls seemed to pulse with energy. The brown, half-furry couches didn’t help matters in the least. If Peter didn’t know any better, he would have said that he was hallucinating or on drugs.

“Come, have a seat.” She said smoothly, extending her arm out and guiding him to a chair. Smiling, she sat in the chair opposite. “So, why don’t we start with the basics, hmm?” She pulled out a clipboard and pen, clicking it once to extend the nib. “You understand that I’m here to make sure that you’re the best version of you you can be, right? That means that if you say you’re thinking about certain things, I might have to break the privacy agreement that you signed?”

“Yeah. I know.” Peter wasn’t sure about this. In fact, he was getting less and less sure as the seconds ticked by. Something felt off, not right, and it wasn’t just the décor. “Uh, where’s the bathroom?”

Smile still not slipping, she instructed him on where it was, and Peter thanked his earlier self for not bringing anything with him. He wasn’t about to make the same mistake of ignoring his instincts.

When he got to the bathroom, he opened the window and slung out, using the web-shooters he kept on him at all times now. Technically, he hadn’t needed to; the window was only one storey off the ground, but if she came to find him now, he didn’t want to be stuck on foot.

Part of him wanted to get away as quickly as possible, but another part of him wanted to watch, see who this person was. So, he perched on a rooftop and watched.

When it became clear that he wasn’t coming back, she peered out the window, cursed, then slammed it shut. He knew it was bordering on creepy, but he followed her...all the way to her apartment. When he saw what was inside, he knew instantly. She was a journalist, and he, like an idiot, had put in his name. One of the names that was probably on the news as one of the victims.

Feeling hurt, angry and confused, Peter swung his way across the city to Stark Enterprises.

 

Tony startled at the knock on his door. He glanced over at the clock Friday had projected on the wall. It was almost four in the afternoon. He sighed. Had time really gone by that quickly?

Getting up from his workbench, he opened the door...and Peter fell into his arms. “Hey, what’s going on? Are you okay?”

The young man could barely stand. He looked exhausted, pale, thin, upset – all the things Tony had worried he’d look like the next time he saw him. Tony helped him into a chair and closed the door.

“What happened?”

Peter swallowed and cracked an eye open. “I went to one of those therapists. It was a reporter.”

Tony frowned. “That can’t be. All the people I picked had been practising for at least three years, had all three or four star reviews.”

The young man shook his head. “Doesn’t matter.” His eyes fluttered closed, and Tony’s heart lurched. “Didn’t have enough energy to come here. Stopped for something to eat, but...”

He didn’t need to finish for Tony to know what came next. The food had been too much, since he’d been forcefully rejecting everything for the past month, and his body hadn’t been able to take it, taking its turn in forcefully rejecting nutrients.

His hands shook as he reached out, squeezed his shoulder. “I’ll get you something.” He was going to leave Peter, but he looked so wrecked, he just couldn’t. “Are you sleepy?”

Peter nodded yes, and Tony barely even thought about it before he was scooping Peter up in his arms and taking him to his bed.

“Stay here. I’ll have something for you when you’re up again, okay?”

“’Kay’.” Peter was snoring before Tony had even crossed the room.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The next chapter will be a little happier, probably. I hope so. I'm sorry this is so depressing. :(  
> Anyway, I hope you all enjoyed it, and the next one shouldn't be too far away. :)


	8. Chapter 8

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just whipped this up immediately after writing the last chapter, so there may be some mistakes, but I hope you all enjoy it, and are ready for some mentions of suicide (sorry)

As he shut the door, Natasha ran up to him. “Steve told me Peter’s here.” She tried to push past him, but he wouldn’t budge. “Come on, Tony. Just let me see him.”

“He’s sleeping.” Tony protested. “Let him rest. He needs it.”

She sighed and stepped back. “I won’t disturb him, Tony.” She said tiredly. “I just want to see how he is.”

Tony knew she wouldn’t relent, but...but...well, he couldn’t think of any reason for her not to. Sighing, he stepped aside.

Seconds later, she strode back out and cornered Tony against the wall. “He looks terrible. Why haven’t you taken him to a hospital already?”

“Do you really think he-”

“Tony.” Natasha growled. “He needs to be taken to a hospital. He’s practically non-existent, he’s so thin! How did he even get here looking like that?”

He knew there was no way around it. And she was right. They should take him to a hospital. The people there would know what to feed him so he didn’t throw it back up. They’d know how to handle the emotional side of things, probably. It was the best place.

So, with great reluctance, Tony agreed to let them take him to a hospital.

 

“I’m sorry, but only family-”

“I’m Iron Man.”

“And I don’t care, Mr. Stark. Only family are allowed in to see patients in intensive care.” The nurse was saying, patiently but firmly. It was clear she’d dealt with people like Tony before.

May stepped in between them. “Hi. My name’s May Parker. Peter is my nephew.”

The nurse smiled at her. He had a really nice smile. “Then follow me.” He turned, and started to lead her down the hall, but May put a hand on his shoulder.

“Mr. Stark can come too, right?”

He looked like he wanted to say no, but eventually he sighed and nodded. “Fine. But there’s a reason we only let family in.”

May swallowed and looked up at the billionaire. “He’s okay, right?”

“Yeah, just malnourished.” He winced. “Probably won’t be very happy with me, either.”

She placed a hand on his shoulder just as they came to the door to Peter’s room. The nurse paused before opening the door. “He’s in really bad shape. You should have brought him to us sooner. Any thinner and we would have to be feeding him through tubes.”

May reassessed the attractiveness of his smile, addressing him coolly. “I don’t have the money for him to be here, even now. A trip to the hospital wasn’t an option. I did the best I could.”

Tony’s hand came to rest on her shoulder and she relaxed into it. She hadn’t even realised how angry she’d been. Breathing deeply, she tried to let it go, but it still coiled there, deep in the pit of her stomach. She was angry at a system that had failed Peter, angry at Andy, the man who had effectively ruined their lives, angry at the fact that she worked two jobs and _still_ couldn’t afford to take care of them, angry that she was doing this on her own, angry that everyone automatically underestimated her because she was a pretty woman.

“I’m sorry.” She said softly, and forced herself to calm down. Being angry wouldn’t help anyone right now, least of all Peter, and he was the priority here.

The nurse nodded and finally opened the door so she could see her nephew.

 

May’s face was a relief, until he saw Tony. The anger flooded back. The betrayal. He wanted to fling the covers off, race across the room, smash through the window and burst out into the night, but he was attached to an array of machinery that, if he unplugged it, would probably start screeching. Well, that and May was watching.

She rushed forward and took him in her arms. “Oh, Peter. You...how did it get this bad? And weren’t you supposed to go to that therapist today? What happened?”

“She was a reporter in disguise. She was going to take everything I said and turn it into a story.” He closed his eyes, begging himself not to look at Tony, not to even _think_ about-

“Hey, I’m sorry.” The playboy’s smooth voice cut the air like a knife. Or maybe just through Peter. He wasn’t sure, but it hurt. He’d trusted Tony, and it had been thrown back in his face. “Natasha wouldn’t let up until I’d agreed to get you here. And she has a point, Peter. This isn’t something you can handle on your own, or wait out. I wouldn’t even know what to get you to eat that wouldn’t make you feel sick.”

His voice was low, gentle, soothing. Peter wanted to stay angry, but… “I just want it to be over.” He didn’t really know what he meant. It might mean that he wanted his stay in the hospital to be over – because he did; the hospital gown made him look even more gaunt and pale than he did in his normal clothes, the thin fabric falling over his frame in a twisted reminder of just how sick he was. It might also mean that he wanted the trial over – because he did; the sooner Andy was safely behind bars, the better he would feel. But the meaning that scared him the most was the one he had most reason to want. His life.

It hadn’t been easy, not by a long shot. He’d lost his parents, his uncle, friends, associates, random civilians that he just wasn’t able to get to in time, and each one weighed on him like...well, that metaphorical ton of bricks again. He’d worked hard in his short existence, first getting the highest grades in school, then doing the internship, then this coffee shop job, and all it had gotten him were a few headaches and...well… A lump rose in his throat. He didn’t want to want his life to be over. He still had so much he wanted to do, to see, to experience. And yet, it didn’t feel like it would get any better.

May’s arms wrapped around him, and he held on to her as tightly as he possibly could, until Tony joined in, and then he held onto both of them as tightly as he could. It felt like they were the life raft that would save him from the huge torrent of sadness and disappointment that was the rest of the world.

 

Tony was sitting in the chair beside his bed. May must have gone for work. A nurse was at his bedside, sticking a needle into the IV drip that was hooked up to him.

“Hey, you’re awake.” He said lowly, making sure to keep the noise level down so Tony could sleep. The nurse flicked his eyes over to said man, and Peter turned to look as well.

The super hero wasn’t looking his best; his beard, now definitely long past the stage of attractive, was unkempt and had the lightest smattering of white; his skin was pale and splotchy, but that could have just been the hospital lights; his suit was wrinkled, and it looked like it hadn’t been changed in at least three days.

“How long has he been here?”

“Since last night.” The nurse replied, an obvious distaste in his tone. “You haven’t been asleep for long. Maybe six or seven hours.”

Peter breathed deeply for a little bit. “How did May look when she left?”

The nurse shrugged his huge shoulders. “I wasn’t on shift then.” He turned back to Peter, having successfully manoeuvred his cart to the side of the room. “So, did you want to go to the toilet?”

After they’d taken care of that business, the nurse gave him his breakfast, and watched Peter eat it all. Not that it was huge; they were starting him on small portions that would gradually get bigger as he got better.

As the nurse was leaving, he paused. “One of our social workers is coming by later today. If you want, I can put you on the list to see her.”

Slightly apprehensive, Peter hesitated. He really _should_ talk to someone. Someone who knew what they were talking about. But after yesterday… Taking a deep breath, he nodded. “Thanks, that’d be great.”

 

Peter was sitting upright in his bed, talking to Tony, when the knock on his door came.

“Come in!” Peter said, not really sure if he should, but unwilling to just sit there in silence. An older woman, probably around May’s age, walked in and sat in the other available chair.

“Hi.” She said cheerfully and reached out to shake his hand. “My name’s Abigail, but people usually call me Abby. What’s your name?”

Peter felt instantly relaxed. The woman’s hands had been warm, and her smile was kind, so unlike that fixed one that had greeted him at the other place. Her whole face lit up with it. Her greying hair was tied back into a tight bun, her steel grey eyes shining in the harsh light. “It’s Peter.”

“Well, it’s lovely to meet you, Peter.” She turned to take in Tony. “Are you his father?”

“Uh..no. Just...just a friend.”

“Ah, I see.” There was a pause, and Tony awkwardly cleared his throat.

“I’ll just...I think I’ll go get a coffee. You need anything?”

Peter smiled. It was amusing to see the usually so calm and smooth billionaire feeling awkward. _Human after all_. He thought, despite the fact that he’d already known it. “No, I’m alright. You should go home, have a shower and change. I’ll be alright on my own for a few hours.”

Tony looked unsure, but nodded and left with a final goodbye.

“You seem close.” Abby noted.

“Yeah. He...I worked for him for a while.”

Abby smiled and rested one of her hands on his arm. The contact made him shiver. “Well, why don’t we get stuck into it?”

“Sure.”

“Can you tell me a little bit about why you’re here?”

Peter winced. “It’s...kind of a long story...”

She shrugged, sitting back into the chair. “I’m here for as long as you need me.”

So, Peter started at the beginning; the interview at the coffee shop, and then finally the assault. It felt good to get it off his chest, at long last. Tell the whole story.

Abby smiled at him encouragingly. “So...you’re here because this happened to you? No other reason?”

Peter knew what she was asking. He felt the familiar stab of shame, and looked down at the gown that didn’t do anything to hide his bony structure. Abby’s warm hand came back to rest over his own.

“Peter, you have nothing to be ashamed of. Something terrible happened to you. It’s normal to be feeling upset, to want to take control back. The way you took back that control was to...well, I’m not sure how you did this. Either starved or brought it back up, but controlling your weight was how you took back the power, right?”

It clicked. The pain of the hunger kept the thoughts at bay. He could _control_ what he thought about when he was hungry. He nodded, still not looking at her.

“That’s okay, Peter. We can work through that. There are other ways to regain control of your life. This experience doesn’t have to rule you.”

The words brought hope, and Peter found himself feeling better than he had in a long while. He lifted his head and smiled weakly at her, a smile she was quick to return.

“There you are, you handsome young man!” She pressed her finger briefly to his nose. “Unfortunately, that’s where we’ll have to leave it. I have some other patients to see. But I’ll be back to talk with you some more. Stay happy for me?”

“I’ll try.”

“There’s a good man.” With a final pat to his shoulder, she slipped out of the room.

With no one to talk to and nothing else to do, Peter very quickly grew bored. He didn’t want to turn on the television, just in case...just in case he saw Andy, or anything about the case. Even so, a children’s show, maybe? Just something to keep the boredom at bay…

 

May heard the low murmur of the television, and panicked. She burst in through the door...and saw Peter sprawled out on the mattress, asleep, the covers thrown off, bare backside facing the door, the television set to play one of those channels that played only children’s shows.

Breathing a sigh of relief, she turned the television off, pulled up the covers and sank into the chair beside his bed. She should have thought about getting him something to do while she and Tony were unavailable. She winced when she thought about him. He was, of course, paying for this stay, and May really didn’t want to think about just how much this was costing him. To his credit, though, he didn’t seem to be too concerned. He was, after all, the CEO of a major company – several, actually.

As if summoned, Tony walked in just after she’d thought all this. His shoulders, which had been tense before, relaxed at the sight of Peter sleeping peacefully. “Did you get to talk to him?” He asked as he sat in the other chair.

“No. He was asleep when I got here just a few minutes ago.”

Tony nodded and closed his eyes. “There was a woman who came by to talk to him. I think she was a social worker.”

May nodded. She’d known they would have at least offered, and she was glad Peter had agreed to talk to someone. “You didn’t stay?”

He shifted uncomfortably. “I...didn’t exactly feel welcome to.”

Looking over at him, she noticed just how much more...refined he looked. “You went home?”

“I didn’t really want to, but Peter told me to. Besides, the others were really worried, wanted to know how he was.”

May smiled at him. Despite her dislike of him, she could see just how much he cared for Peter. If nothing else, they could agree on just how much he meant to them. “I’m glad you’re here.”

Tony didn’t say anything for a while. Finally, he said, “do you want a coffee or anything?”

She laughed. “Sure. Whatever you can scavenge from the shops here will do.”

When he’d left, Peter cracked his eyes open. He managed to last thirty seconds before bursting into peals of laughter. May joined in.

“He’s cute when he’s awkward like that.” May said, despite not finding him attractive in the least. She sobered up and leaned forward. “How are you feeling?”

“Pretty good, actually. Tony told you I’d talked to Abby, the social worker.”

“Yeah, how’d it go?”

He smiled up at her, still not having moved from where he’d been lying before. “It was good. Really good. I think you’d really like her.”

“I’m sure I would.” She reached out and smoothed his hair back. “Do you think it helped at all?”

“Yeah.”

“That’s good. That’s good.” She came in even closer, pulling him in for a hug. “I was thinking of bringing you some books. Anything in particular you want?”

As Peter was going through his list, Tony came back with two cups of coffee and a packet of chips. “Not exactly a bounty, but we’ll make do.” He said with a shrug as he sat back into his chair. “How’re you doing?”

“Yeah, good.” He was even feeling good enough to have a few chips. May’s heart leapt at that. He was doing better. He was going to be okay. _They_ were going to be okay.

And then the nausea hit. May stroked his back as he threw up, bent over the sink.

“I’m sorry.” He mumbled when she helped him back to bed.

“It’s okay. It’s all a process. It’ll get better.”

Tony hovered nervously in the corner, fingers scrubbing at his beard. May felt much the same as he did, she was just better at hiding it. She tucked Peter in, kissed his forehead, then left him so he could get more sleep, dragging Tony out behind her. “He needs some space right now.” She said to his protests, and took the car that was waiting for him back to the building where he lived.

She was shocked at the sheer size of it. “Do you live here alone?” She asked in a whisper.

“No. There are...I’ve lost count of how many others live with us.” He led her inside and made to go directly to his room or study, but May held him back.

“I want to meet the others.” Tony looked apprehensive, but May wasn’t about to back down. “I want to know who my nephew is spending his time with. Is that really too much to ask?”

Finally, he sighed and started rousing the others. They all convened in the lounge room. There were nine of them in total, including Tony himself, and the only other person May recognised was Steve. She insisted that they go around the room and introduce themselves.

“Natasha, or Black Widow.” The red-haired woman said with a small wave.

The next was a strange-looking red-skinned man with a crystal embedded in his forehead. “Vision. I don’t have any other name.”

There was another woman with auburn hair, who sat close to Vision, her leg resting against his. “Wanda, otherwise known as Scarlet Witch.”

The next person hardly needed an introduction, but she sat silent as the god of thunder introduced himself to her. It was a somewhat surreal experience.

Tony just rolled his eyes. The woman next to him smacked his arm lightly and told him to just do it. “Fine. Tony, or Iron Man.”

“Pepper.” She smiled. “I don’t have any special abilities, other than being able to get Tony to reconsider some of his actions.

The hug puppy of a man, Steve, made the effort to come over and shake her hand.

A salt-and-peppered man in casual clothes introduced himself as Bruce, then informed her that he could turn into the Hulk which...was surprising. She never would have picked him out as the one to do that.

Finally, there was a dark skinned man, who also came over to shake her hand and, which a huge, toothy smile, introduced himself as Sam or Falcon.

“Okay. Nice to meet you all. I’m May Parker, Peter’s aunt.”

Natasha was immediately on her feet. “Is he okay? Why did you wait until _now_ to tell us that?”

“Relax, he’s fine. He’s probably asleep right now. He’s doing better than even a few days ago.” May stood herself. “I understand that we have you to thank for him being in hospital in the first place. I would never have been able to send him myself. So, thank you.”

The red-haired woman relaxed and nodded in acknowledgement, sitting back down.

“I’m sorry to rouse you all from your day, but I really needed to meet the people he’s been being around. I...don’t feel safe leaving him to himself anymore. Not that I thought any of you...”

Steve came over and placed his hand on her shoulder. “It’s alright. We understand.”

May smiled at him. “I’m just glad he has so many good friends.”

They each left, except for Tony, Pepper and Natasha. Steve tried to get Natasha to leave with him, but she wasn’t budging.

“So, I wanted to just say thank you, for being there, Tony. He’s...I know he’s one of you. Spider-Man. Just don’t tell him I know? If he’s ready, he’ll tell me himself.”

“How do you know?”

“Well, ever since he started that job, he’s been around less and less, and before that, he was only around after school. He didn’t exactly do a great job of hiding it.”

“Fair enough.” Tony conceded. “Did you want to stay tonight? There’s a room we made up for Peter. I’m sure he won’t mind you staying there. He hasn’t even slept there yet.”

“Sure, I just want to talk to Natasha for a bit.”

“Okay.” Tony and Pepper left, and May turned to the red-haired woman.

“I can see you really care about him.”

“Of course. He’s...is he really doing okay?”

May smiled. “Yes. He’s doing okay. In a few days, he should be okay enough for a visitor or two. If you want-”

“Absolutely.” She interrupted. “I’d go now, if they’d let me, but they keep turning me away.”

“It might be for the best just now. He’s sleeping a lot, and still throwing up sometimes.”

Natasha looked worried, and a little shocked, but just nodded. Swallowing, she turned away. “Thanks for telling me. Hope you sleep well.”

May watched her go with a small smile...before realising she had no idea where to go. Shrugging, she lay down on one of the couches. It was probably better than even her own bed. Definitely more expensive.

Her last thoughts were with Peter, hoping he really was doing okay.


	9. Chapter 9

Abby came back the next day, this time with another boy. He was the same age as Peter, and Abby introduced him as Freddie. He was skinny, head shaved bald, about Peter’s height, and had an easy smile. It was infectious, and within minutes of meeting him, Peter found himself smiling right alongside him.

“That’s enough, Freddie. You need to go back to your own room now.” Abby interrupted gently about half an hour into her visit. Peter was sad to see him go, but he left with the promise to return, so he wasn’t too down about it. Abby turned her smiling face back to Peter. “So, what do you think of him?”

“He’s nice.”

She shook her head. “What do you think of him?”

Peter shrugged, not sure he understood the question. “He’s...I think he’s attractive.”

Abby’s smile widened. “Good! That’s good, Peter. Attraction is one of the steps to recovery from something like this! I’m so glad you find him attractive.” She leaned forward. “What else?”

“I think he’s happy. Bubbly. Is...is he going to be leaving the hospital soon?” He was suddenly apprehensive. He already felt so alone. Losing anyone else at this point would be pure torture.

“Oh, no." She said sadly. "There’s no chance of that, unfortunately. His kidneys are failing, Peter. If he doesn’t get another from somewhere, he’s...well, it doesn’t look good.”

Peter swallowed. “What are the chances he’ll...”

Abby’s face fell, and Peter couldn’t complete the question.

“So why…?”

“Because, Peter, you currently feel like you can’t cope with the emotional pain. I’m trying to show you that it’s possible to be dealing with all this pain in a healthy way. And Freddie, when he first came here, was in a similar state. Not physically, but emotionally, mentally. I want you two to get to know each other better, so he can teach you what I taught him.” She took his hand in her own. “Besides, it’s always nice to have someone close by. I’ve noticed that your guardians are busy. They come by as much as they can, but...well, I hope that Freddie can bring you some comfort.”

Peter didn’t say anything for a long time. Finally, he took a deep breath. “Thank you, Abby.”

She smiled warmly at him and squeezed his hand. “That’s alright, Peter.” Her hand withdrew and she stood. “I have to move on, now, but I hope that you’ll reconnect with Freddie again before it’s time for me to come around again.”

“I’m sure we will. Have a nice day.”

“You too, love. You too.”

 

“That was very irresponsible of you, to let him have chips like that.”

“It’s not like we forced them on him. He chose to-”

“You still provided him with-”

“I don’t have to deal with this!” May finally shouted, throwing up her hands. “He’s doing better, and we’ve learned our lesson! Isn’t that good enough? Just let me go up and see my nephew!”

The entire waiting room was holding their breath. Beside her, Tony was standing completely still. She’d always been told she could be really scary when she was angry. She’d never believed them until now.

The nurse at the desk eyed her coldly before finally sighing and dropping her head. “Alright, fine. You can go.”

A May stormed off, the waiting room filled up with the low murmur of conversation again. May paid them no mind as she stabbed at the button for the lift, still angry.

Tony’s hand descended lightly on her shoulder as the doors opened with a cheery ‘ding’. She shrugged him off and stepped in. He followed her.

“Are you okay?” He asked, clearly not getting the hint, and she rounded on him, fierce.

“No, I’m not okay! They’re trying to lecture me on how to take care of my nephew, when I’m doing my absolute best! Can’t they see I’m trying?”

Tony stood through her rant as she got more and more animated, looking at her with pitying eyes. It made her even more angry. Finally, she was out of breath. The elevator doors were open, a group of people staring at her, wide-eyed. Tony led her from the lift and to the side of the hallway by her elbow.

When he had her alone, he spoke in a low voice. “I know it’s eating at you.” He started gently. “You’re still working those two jobs, and you’re tired because as soon as you’ve finished, you come right back here, to watch over him. It’s whittling away what little sanity you have left, and the fact that Andy’s still not in prison is worrying you as well. But it’s all going to become too much soon, May. You’ve got to stop or break.” He held up his hand to halt her protests. “Go home, May. Take some time for yourself. Some time to actually sleep in your own bed. You’re exhausted. I’ll stay with him.”

May wanted to argue, but Tony was right; she was just so tired. Hanging her head, she turned around and took the lift back down to the lobby, then took the bus back home. When she got there, she sighed at how lonely, how empty it felt. It didn’t even feel like home anymore, not when Peter wasn’t there with her. It had been almost a week since she’d come back here. She kept her clothes in the car, took them to the laundromat near her work when they needed a wash. She’d been having takeout for dinner every night. It had been hard not to cry into the Chinese takeaway containers of Thai and Indian food as she remembered all the times she’d had Peter with her, and before that, Ben.

It felt like she was going to lose him, and she just couldn't handle the thought of that loss. Not so soon after Ben.

Dropping her keys on the kitchen counter, she bent over the sink, staring down, down into the black abyss of the pipes under the drain. Her focus was pulled to it like it was a black hole. Well...it _was_ a black hole, wasn’t it? Maybe, just maybe, if she fed enough matter into it, it would grow so big, it would suck her into a universe where Peter hadn’t been raped, where he was just a normal kid, in a normal school, no super powers, no anything. Just her Peter.

Maybe Ben would still be alive, too. They’d be a happy family, just like they had been just last year. Or, maybe Peter’s parents would still be alive. She’d have called them before they’d gotten on the plane, some fantasy emergency having taken place, and they’d have been safe on the ground, whole. And Peter would still have his Mom and Dad, to hold him at night, to tell him how proud they were, to teach him about the world, and how to cook, and draw, and help him with his homework, even if the equations he was doing boggled them.

A metallic  _pling_ brought her back to the present, to reality, and she looked down at the single tear that had splattered onto the surface of the sink. Her cheeks were sticky with the tears, and she took a deep, shaky breath to calm herself. Crying...well, it wouldn’t bring anyone back, it wouldn’t reverse time, it wouldn’t do anything to actually help...but she’d be damned if it didn’t feel good.

So, putting a ready-meal into the microwave, she slumped onto the couch and sobbed into the cushions until the meal was done. Then, she blubbered over the steaming tray, her tears making it salty, the wracking of her diaphragm making it hard to eat. Finally, she drifted off into sleep, her eyes puffy and red.

 

There was another boy in Peter’s room. Tony had fallen asleep while reading one of his employees’ reports, and the tablet had slipped from his hands onto the chair beside him, his head tilting on his neck at an odd angle. Stretching and rubbing at his sore neck, he yawned and looked over at the other boy.

Tall, skinny and angular, he had a shaved head and a prominent nose that were accompanied by thin, softly curving lips and startlingly blue eyes. He was quite attractive for a young boy, probably the same age as Peter.

Tony slipped from his chair and went over to Peter’s bed, which was now empty. The two boys were sitting on the window sill, each with a book in hand.

“Oh, you’re up.” Peter said with a small smile. “This is Freddie. He’s in the Intensive Care ward too.”

Freddie looked up at him with a large, genuine smile. “Hi. I was asking Peter before if you’re a patient here too.” He chuckled. “He told me you just haven’t left for a while.” He held out his hand. “Are you Peter’s dad?”

Tony shook that hand that was offered to him. “No. I was Peter’s boss, but now he’s...a friend.”

“One hell of a thing for a friend to do.” Freddie said, giving him a strange look. “Even my friends only come to see me once a week or so. So, what makes you so dedicated?”

“I...”

Peter jabbed his new friend in the side. “Freddie!”

The other boy shrugged. “It’s a valid question.” Even so, he dropped the subject. “Do you guys know how to play Canasta?”

 

May was not doing well. After her breakdown, she’d developed a tickle in the back of her throat which had turned into a small cough, and then heaving fits of wheezing. Then, just the following morning, she was sneezing, and her head pounded. She had to face the music; she was sick.

There was absolutely no way the hospital would let her in now, but she still had to call and let them know. After all, she might have already infected swarms of vulnerable people...her stomach clenched. She might have even made Peter sick. With him being as thin as he was...he wouldn’t survive a bout of sickness.

“Hi, this is the Elmhurst Hospital Centre, how can I help you?”

The woman on the other end of the line grew more and more flustered as she listened to May speak. Finally, she managed to whisper, “please hold,” before the phone clattered to the desk, and she started tapping keys and breathing hysterically, forgetting all about pressing the hold button.

Running feet sounded, and a cacophony of voices all jostled over each other, begging to have their questions answered first.

“What are the symptoms?”

“How long ago did they develop?”

“When was she last here?”

“Where does she live?”

“Do we need to set up a perimeter around her home?”

“Is anyone else in her neighbourhood sick?”

In the middle of it all, the woman behind the desk was whimpering quietly. Already fed up with their nonsense, May shouted down the line for them all to shut it. “Can I please talk to someone calmly about this?” She asked loudly, and someone picked up the phone.

A woman’s voice, smooth and soothing, greeted her. “Sorry about all that. What can you tell me about what happened?”

May explained that the symptoms had moved quickly from non-existent to pretty bad, but nothing catastrophic as yet, and that it felt mostly just like a common cold. She hadn’t had contact with anyone since leaving the hospital, which she’d left just eighteen hours before.

“Thank you. We’ll conduct a hospital-wide search for any bacteria and similar symptoms and come get you if we think you’d be better off coming back down here for monitoring. Just don’t leave your apartment or answer your door until we’ve called you back.”

“Alright, thanks. Uh, wait-”

“Yes?”

“Tell Peter? My nephew?”

“Of course. Good day, ma’am.”

 

The commotion outside barely perked Freddie’s interest, but Peter was at the door, peering out into the hallway. A tall, dark skinned beauty walked towards him with a gentle smile on her face.

“Hi, Peter.” She said, her voice soft and smooth. “Why don’t we head on back to bed?” She ushered him back to his room and closed the door behind herself. Peter didn’t miss the small click as the door locked. The smile never wavered.

Tony was out getting another coffee in a vain attempt to keep himself awake until May returned. Peter just hoped that he could break the door down if need be. He worked hard to plaster a smile onto his own face.

“How can I help you?” He asked it a bit louder, so Freddie could hear. He hoped he took the hint and hid until it was safe.

The woman sat down in the chair Tony had been occupying. “Your aunt just called. It turns out she’s come down with something. We just need to make sure that everything’s safe and secure. We have no reason to believe it’s anything other than a cold, but I need to know if you’ve had anyone else in your room recently?”

Peter wasn’t sure what to do. On the one hand, he had no idea who this woman was. She might be the newest big criminal, ready to eliminate Spider-Man so that she could rise to the top. She might even be another reporter, hoping to catch him alone so she could get the next big scoop on the boy who was so traumatised by an almost-rape that he nearly starved himself out of existence. Or, she might be telling the truth.

“Let me talk to her.”

The woman blinked. “I’m sorry?”

“My aunt. Let me talk to her.”

She looked at him as if he’d grown an extra head. “This is the intensive care unit. You can’t have phones; there’s heavy equipment that-”

“Then you’re lying. What are you trying to do? Get me alone so you can-”

“Peter!” She interrupted. “We don’t have time for this. There could be a massive outbreak if this gets out. There are _vulnerable people_ in the beds around you. I need to know if anyone else was in here with you over the last two days.”

The look in her eyes told Peter all he needed to know. “Tony. Freddie’s in the bathroom right now. Tony went to get coffee.”

She nodded curtly and left, locking the door behind her. Freddie poked his head out from the bathroom with a wolfish grin. “Man, you have some serious trust issues.”

 

Tony was herded into a closet by an attractive young woman.

“I’m sorry, but I’m engaged.” He said, flustered. She’d been a flurry of action, frantic and desperate to get him out of the hallway.

She rolled her eyes. “Not trying to get you alone for that reason. We need to keep everyone who’s been in contact with May Parker on lockdown until we confirm that was she has is just a cold.”

“May’s sick?” He asked a little more sharply than he needed to. “I knew she’d been up too many nights. She works too hard.”

The woman shrugged. “Can’t force her to do anything. But it _will_ come up as just a cold, I’m sure of it. If it wasn’t, we would be hearing sirens right now.”

He leaned against the wall and tried to calm his nerves. He’d never thought about just how easy it would be to spread a disease in a hospital, let alone the Intensive Care unit. “I’m sorry.” He said, drawing a strange look from the woman. “We should have been better.”

She shrugged again. “You’re not the first to overlook it. At least she didn’t come in with the cold. That would have been a disaster.”

 

 _Just a little rest,_ May thought sleepily, resting her head on the arm of the couch. The phone was right next to her, ready to deliver the news she dreaded. The longer she had to wait, the worse the scenarios she thought up. At this point, she was responsible for the zombie outbreak that was happening downtown right now.

Every siren going past her window sent her into an alert panic. They’d be coming for her.

But, as the time continued to soldier on, her eyelids drooped, and she became more content with that fate. They could drag her away, if only she could close her eyes for...two…

The phone ringing jolted her awake.

“Hello?” She asked nervously, her hands shaking so badly she had to clutch them together.

“It’s all clear here.”

May breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you.” The scenarios melted away, the zombies and vampires conjured by her delirious mind fading to blackness. She didn’t even hang up before she went to sleep.

**Author's Note:**

> Hope you all liked it. Please leave kudos and comments if you're so inclined.  
> I have a plan for this one, so hopefully it won't be too long before I have the next chapter up :)  
> Thanks for reading, and I hope you all have a great day!


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